Dark Ripples in Blood
by Celtic Aurora
Summary: Prequel to SpeedDemon315's Ace In the Hole. Between training to be a Death Dealer, fighting Kraven's advances, and possibly falling in love, more complication comes to Selene's life when two visitors bearing a strange presence come at Viktor's request...
1. The Master's Favorite

_**A/N: **Well, amazing as it is, I have another Underworld story to present to you all (I know, I really should finish **So Dark This Night** first, and I will finish it, just give me...a lot of time ^^;). This was inspired by the release of Rise of the Lycans, and my interest with how Viktor travelled to Budapest and rebuilt his coven. It was also brought on by a little bit of late-night wondering, thinking "what would happen if Edward and Catherine met Viktor?"_

_Before I go any further, let me explain: Edward and Catherine are characters created by me and **SpeedDemon315**, and used in a roleplay forum. Edward Orenstein, her character, is a demon-vampire hybrid who was murdered by his half-brother at the request of his stepmother, and brought back to life by a necromancer known as the Reaper of All Souls, also know as Thanatos Itzal Wakahisa. Those of you who have read either my Van Helsing fanfic **Intrusive Dusk** or SpeedDemon's fanfic **Ace In the Hole** will recognize that name. Catherine Van Helsing, whom all readers of my Van Helsing fanfics should be familiar with, is, in the roleplay universe, the world's first fallen angel-vampire hybrid. Being as anti-hybrid as he is, I wondered how it would go over if they met Viktor. This lead to story developing, which lead to me using more boring class time to start writing. _

_After talking to SpeedDemon (and getting this wonderful title from her, thanks a million!), we realized that our stories could be companion stories, with mine as the prequel and her's as the sequel. So don't forget to check out her story **Ace In the Hole**! _

_Now that I've explained what is needed, let's get this show on the road!_

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own the amazingness that is Underworld, nor do I own Edward (once you meet him, that is). Edward's on loan..._

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"Sometimes I get a strange feeling

Like nothing I know matters to me

A terrible truth someone's concealing

Unveils its cloak of mystery

Like a fairy tale

I was walking in a fantasy land

Say what you want of me

I know you will not understand."

_-"I Remember a Day"_ by Magica

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**Chapter One: The Master's Favorite**

Steel clanged against more steel as the two blades collided, the sound ringing in the vast hall. Selene spun on her heel, ducking to avoid the sword that threatened to take off her head. The other fighter, an experienced Death Dealer known as Jarek, gave an approving nod.

"Excellent move," he complimented, lunging forward to strike her with the sword once more. She dodged the blow, but stumbled, throwing off her footing. Jarek took advantage of the opening that came with that mistake, slapping the blade lightly against her shins. The brief sting of pain that coursed through her legs threw her off even more, tripping her up. She came down hard on her back, her elbows and palms slapping against the cold stones. Stefan leveled his sword at her throat, signaling that he had won yet another round.

_Not again_, Selene thought to herself in disappointment. _At this rate, I'll never become a Death Dealer. I'll never properly avenge my family. What will they think?_

_What will Lord Viktor think?_

"Come now, don't be like that," Jarek commented, kneeling down beside her, seeing the disappointment on her face. "You're getting better, little one. Much better."

Selene looked to her trainer, surprise in her expression. "You really think so?" she asked hesitantly, wondering if he was going to suddenly take it all back and mock her about her lack of skills.

"I do," Jarek assured her. "Your blocking is better now than it has been. You're learning to anticipate my moves before I execute them, and that's possibly the most important thing you can know. However, mind your footing. You're still getting tripped up, and Lord Viktor will hardly thank me if I return you to him covered in scratches and bruises."

Selene nodded, the ever-eager student, and carefully made a mental reminder to watch her footing. Jarek stood, offering his hand to her. "Our lesson is concluded for a day."

The young woman took his hand, though she nearly toppled over again after he pulled her to her feet with on quick yank. Having only been a vampire for two months, she was still not yet adjusted to how unnaturally strong she and her newfound brethren were.

"I shall see you again tomorrow, Selene."

She nodded one final time, then picked up her cloak and left the hall, pausing outside the door to unwind her hair from the braid she'd woven it into. She knew Viktor expected her presence every day after her training, and she would not arrive in the presence of such a powerful, commanding man looking like some disheveled street urchin.

_Viktor._ Just the thought of the powerful Elder sent a feeling of warm comfort through Selene's cool blood. In the short span on time she had known him, he had become like a father to her, her mentor, her sire. He had been right when he had told her that she was safe, that cold, rainy night only two months ago. That night Selene remembered oh, so well…

* * *

_Everything could only be judged as a horror show in Selene's eyes. She peered out into the hallway, pausing for a moment, contemplating whether or not to do or say anything. She had heard the screams from her mother's room, and Cecilia's room. She highly doubted they were still alive._

But what about Father?_ She asked herself. _What about Eva and Lydia? Do they still live?

_Terrified shrieks and cries echoed out, coming from the room that belonged to Eva and Lydia, Selene's twin nieces. She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp of terror as the cries faded away, leaving only the horrible sounds of some beast drinking deep the blood of her dear nieces._

_Everything around her seemed to blur as Selene took off towards the stables, praying desperately that her father had survived, and they could escape this wretched nightmare together, that she was not left alone in the midst of this blood massacre. But that small, fragile hope was crushed when she burst into the barn and spotted a figure lying in the middle of the barn, prone, lifeless. Her breath caught in her mouth, forcing itself out as a choked sob._

"_No…Father…" she whispered, her voice clogged with tears. She hurried to his side, falling to her knees when she reached him. Unable to hold back tears as she stared at the familiar, loving face of her father, frozen in shock and spattered with blood, Selene broke down and wept openly over the corpse of her father._

_The door, which she'd hastily barred, burst open, and she closed her eyes, expecting to be met with the pain of a savage beast tearing her asunder. And yet…it never came. Instead, a gentle hand, clad in armor, came down upon her shoulder, a gesture of comfort. _

_Confused, she opened her eyes, looking up to see whose was upon her shoulder. She found a pair of startlingly-blue eyes staring up at her from slits in a Corinthian-style helmet. The helmet was suddenly removed, revealing the face of an older gentleman, perhaps in his fifties, but still rife with vitality. Gray hair, which may have once been somewhat blonde, fell down over his armor-clad shoulders. Lips turned upwards at her in a kind smile. _

"_They've gone," he told her gently._

_She moved to stand, her gestures hesitant, wary of the stranger. His hand moved from her shoulder to her hand, clasping it gently as he helped her to her feet. His eyes, now noticeably darker than they had been previously, rested on her face, noting the tears still trickling down her visage._

"_There, there, my child," he cooed, pulling her into his arms, to the safety of his embrace. "You're safe now."_

_She closed her eyes, clinging to the unknown man, her savior, as a scared child would cling to their mother._ At last, _she thought to herself._ Someone to wake me from this living nightmare.

* * *

Nearby murmurs caught Selene's attention, shaking her from her reverie. Looking around, she spotted a handful of servant girls nearby, giggling amongst themselves as they cleaned Viktor's luxurious manor in preparation for the arrival of a few guest, who were due to show up as soon as the sun set, later on that very day. Though they looked to be having a good time in each other's company, Selene did not envy the girls their task; she knew that she, too, would have been saddled with such mundane, banal tasks had Viktor not taken her under his wing as his protégé, the daughter he never had.

Looking out one of the narrow windows, she saw the first subtle traces of dawn in the sky. She knew that Viktor would be retiring for the day soon, but he still expected to see her before he did. Quickly running her fingers through her hair in lieu of a proper brushing, Selene scurried towards her sire's study, which was a few floors up, far removed from the trifles of the ordinary members of the coven. She took the stairs quickly, practically trembling with excitement, ready to relay Jarek's words of praise to Viktor.

She was only mere feet from her sire's study when someone stepped into the corridor, purposefully blocking her way. A pair of dark eyes, glimmering with lust, stared down at her from a pale face framed by thick, black hair. His lips twisted into a smirk as he looked down at her; she frowned.

"Kraven, please move."

The dark-haired vampire continued to consider her ever as he took a deep drink from the goblet in his hand. "Why should I?"

"Viktor wants to see me."

He frowned, almost disapprovingly. "Viktor wants to see you every night."

"And thus, I go to him to see him every night. He is the Elder, Kraven, and if he wishes to see me every night, I shall go to him every night."

Kraven rolled his eyes out of impatience. "Are you always so obedient, so meek?"

"He merely wishes to know how I am adjusting to being here," Selene defended, her inner frustration with Kraven beginning to seep onto her face. Ever since she had left her shattered past behind her and moved into Ordoghaz to live amongst the coven two months ago, Kraven had persistently hounded her, trying time and time again to lure her into his bed. What he didn't know seem to realize was that the new vampire could hardly stand him; Selene thought him to be little more than a preening, showy peacock, despite his status as a distinguished Death Dealer (said status being reached by him having slain the lycan leader, Lucian, shortly before Selene was inducted into the coven).

Kraven grinned licentiously at her, as if aroused by her frustration. "Methinks Viktor won't miss you for one paltry night…"

"Then you'd be think wrong, Kraven," another male interjected. Peering around Kraven, Selene was nearly overjoyed to see Viktor, stately as ever in his black robes, standing outside the door to his study. His eyes narrowed slightly at Kraven. "You weren't troubling young Selene, were you?"

The male Death Dealer bowed his head respectfully, his expression composed but his eyes brimming with irritation for the Elder. "No, milord."

"Good. Selene, please come here. Kraven, you may take your leave."

Kraven slinked off like a pup that'd been reprimanded, and Selene hurried to Viktor, bowing her head respectfully. A strong finger under her chin made her lift her head, so she was looking into her sire's dark eyes.

"There's no need to stand on ceremony as such, my child," he assured her softly. "These delightful conversations of ours are casual, not of official business." He stepped aside, gently ushering her into his study. "Please, do come in."

She did as he requested, entering the room, which she had always found beautiful. A vast desk, fashioned out of rich mahogany wood, was the centerpiece of the room; a wingback chair, covered with smooth, polished leather was Viktor's chair of choice for behind his desk, while couches, as well as a divan, all upholstered with rich, beautiful, and surely expensive fabrics, were pushed against the walls. Thick black drapes hung from the windows, opened slightly so a sliver of the night sky could be seen. The Elder took a seat on one of the couches, bidding his fledgling to sit on the same couch.

"Did you enjoy your training, my child?" he asked, his term of endearment evoking a small smile from Selene.

"Indeed, I did, milord. Jarek is a wonderful mentor. He says I am improving."

"Wonderful," he praised, allowing himself a small smile. "You shall make a fine Death Dealer, Selene."

She could no longer blush, as she could when she was mortal, but Selene's blood still rushed at her sire's praise, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. "Thank you, milord, you are too kind."

"Has Kraven been giving you much trouble?"

"I am afraid I find myself constantly hounded by his never-ending infatuations. It can be rather tiresome, milord."

This time, Viktor permitted himself a small chuckle. "Well, if it is troublesome, then I shall end our time together a little earlier tonight. We have guests arriving this evening, my child, and I wish you wide awake, so as to better greet our guests."

She nodded, standing. "Yes-good day, milord."

He stood as well, leaning in and giving her forehead the smallest of affectionate kisses. As he did, Selene swore she saw something, some flicker of emotion-an emotion that appeared to be _pain_-flickering in his eyes. But the next thing she knew, he was composed as always, and gently ushering her towards the door. "Good day, Selene."

She crossed the threshold, her mind trying to make sense of that look of pain in his eyes. Was he ill in any way? Did showing fatherly affection towards her pain him in some way, bring back memories from the past he'd never once spoken about? Had it even been there at all, or was she merely seeing things?

"Is something bothering you?" Viktor asked, a touch of concern in his voice. Selene looked up at him, wondering if she should inquire about that glint of possibly-imagined pain.

_No-I shan't poke my nose into business that is solemnly Lord Viktor's business._

"No, milord," she lied, somewhat astonished by how truthful it sounded. "I shall see you this evening. Pleasant dreams, milord."

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**_A/N:_** _All right, I should clarify somethings before I get a bunch of nasty-grams. Yes, I know that both Selene and Viktor seem grossly out of character. There is a point and purpose to this, however. _

_I believe that, shortly after she was turned, Selene was still as she had been in life, which was most likely a happy, vibrant young woman with the normal human feelings, including the capacity to love. The reason she was so cold and callous six centuries later, at the start of Underworld, is because somewhere along the line, something happened that shattered her completely, and thus she rebuilt her cool, detatched exterior to keep herself from being hurt again. This is the story of how I believe that happened._

_Viktor, I did not write him as a kind man because I believe he is kind. Truth be told, I hate his guts and wish to submit him to a Hell that consists of him being forced to watch all episodes of Potter Puppet Pals and Charlie the Unicorn for all eternity whilst SpeedDemon315 and I scream curses in all the languages we know into his ears. However, for this chapter, I wrote him as Selene would see him: A kind, caring man, a mentor and a father figure to her. Boy, is she in for a rude awakening in about six hundred years... _

_All right, now that I've cleared that up and hopefully spared myself the nasty-grams, I tell you now that I hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to read SpeedDemon's **Ace In the Hole** (or she shall send Jacob out on you, and he's the last person you want assaulting you, he's a nasty S.O.B.)_


	2. A Fool's Errand?

_**A/N: **Heylo and welcome back! So I have another chapter ready for your reading pleasure, and I'd like to thank **SpeedDemon315, LadyAlera, **and **keili77 **for their reviews! Enjoy the fanfiction! _

_**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Underworld, and Edward is borrowed. Anyone else, however, I own. _

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"Just talk yourself up

And tear yourself down

You've hit one wall

Now find a way around

Well, what's the problem?

You've got a lot of nerve

So what did you think I would say?

No you can't run away, no you can't run away

So what did you think I would say?

No you can't run away, no you can't run away

You wouldn't."

-_"For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic"_ by Paramore

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**Chapter Two: A Fool's Errand?**

Selene was roused around nightfall by an urgent shaking of her shoulders and a voice begging her to awaken. She opened her eyes, only to find a handmaid shaking what appeared to be a piece of black cloth in her face.

"Lady Selene!" the young vampire begged. "The guests will be arriving shortly, and you must be prepared to greet them!"

The half-awake vampire nodded vaguely, her brain hardly comprehending what was being ordered of her, and the maid dropped the black cloth in her lap before scurrying off to open the drapes and let in the twilight. Selene held the cloth up, coming to find that it had sleeves, and a neckline…it was a dress.

"Lord Viktor bids you to wear it," the maid explained, coming back over and yanking Selene to her feet. Not even allowing the still-drowsy vampire the chance to recover her bearings, the maid started pulling at her nightgown, trying to remove it. Had it not been for her half-awake state, Selene probably would have jumped straight to the ceiling out of surprise and a mad desire to get away from the woman trying to remove the only clothing keeping her decent. As it was, she fought her way out of the maid's grasp, smoothing her nightgown as she did.

"Excuse me, I'm quite capable of dressing myself!" she yelped.

"The guests are due in less than half an hour, Lady Selene," the maid argued. "Lord Viktor bid me to come and help you dress; he wishes you to be at his side as he greets the guests, as his protégé."

"I understand," the Death Dealer in training responded, a little calmer now, having had time to recover from the initial shock of someone she really didn't even know attempting to undress her. "And I appreciate the gesture, but, at the very least, allow me to remove my own nightgown." She paused. "Please," she added as an afterthought.

The maid relented, and Selene quickly stripped off her nightgown. Akin to a wolf pouncing on a wounded deer, the maid bustled over and began to lace Selene into a corset and chemise. As the woman dressed her, there came the sound of a battle cry, and Selene's acute hearing caught the sounds of hooves pounding against the ground. Peering out her window, she saw a small battalion of Death Dealers riding off, towards and past the gates of Ordoghaz.

"What's going on? Where are they going?" she asked curiously.

"To see our guests here safely," the maid explained, starting to lace Selene into the dress she'd brought. "In case the lycans try to attack the carriage." She shook her head. "Those beasts are quite bold. Strangely bold, if you ask me. I would have thought the death of their precious Lucian would have cowed them significantly, but I suppose he'd been grooming a successor. Even still…I'm glad Lord Kraven finished off that ghastly beast Lucian. I feel much safer in my bed during the day now, knowing that the leader of those monsters was put down like the dog he was."

The maid's face took on a dreamy expression as she spoke of Kraven. It was no secret that she, as well as most, if not all, of the other servant-girls, admired Kraven, and dreamed of him romancing them, having eyes solely for them. However, it was also no secret that the only woman Kraven ever had eyes for was Selene, despite the fact she rather would rather have nothing to do with him.

_Another good thing about being a training Death Dealer,_ she thought. _I wouldn't think many of the maids here like me, for having all of Kraven's attention._

However, no matter how she didn't care for him, she did have to give Kraven due respect for slaying the leader of the repulsive creatures that had killed her entire family with no remorse.

She looked out the window again, watching the Death Dealers as they vanished into the evening. _I should be out there with them._

"'Tis a fool's errand going out there, if you ask me," the maid clucked, as if she had been reading Selene's mind. "Risking one's immortality to fight off those dogs, definitely not a place for a lady-for any vampire, really. I say let the humans play the warriors; we're meant for better things than war."

Selene nodded vaguely, not hearing a word as she watched the armor-clad warriors ride off, envisioning herself riding among them-preferably at Jarek's side.

***

Branches from the trees hung low, into the wicked, curving path, threatening a painful smack in the face, or possibly even being unseated, to any rider who didn't think it worth the time to pay attention. These wild limbs dragged against the armor-plated sides of the carriage, occasionally producing a horrible, raucous shriek. The coachman paid no mind to the lashing branches, he only drove the carriage onward towards Ordoghaz.

Within the carriage, a young, slender man was somewhat sprawled across one of the upholstered branches. His somewhat-short, dark hair was spiky; dark eyelashes rested against smooth, flawless alabaster cheeks, the image of serenity. He was an exceptionally handsome young man, almost unnaturally so. He was clad in a crimson doublet worn under a black waistcoat, black breeches, and black riding boots. All the garments were made of comfortable linen, not course wool or goat hair, signifying he had a bit of money to spare.

On the bench opposite of him sat a young woman of equal ethereal beauty. Her thick brunette hair hung down around her shoulders in waves, ending near her shoulder blades. Eyes the color of pure sapphires darted restlessly around the carriage she bit gently on her bottom lip, revealing the tiniest glimpse of ivory fangs where canines should have been. Though her dress, a deep scarlet that matched the color of the man's tunic, was a rather elegant dress of silk, the jewelry that hung from her pale throat was simple: two necklaces, one a simple but beautiful embellished black cross, the other, a silvery pendant bearing a pendragon insignia. Her slender fingers restlessly stroked the tawny hair of a toddler in her lap. The young child, a beautiful little boy, was dressed exactly like the dark-haired man (albeit his shirt was white, not red), and he slept soundly, his pale little fingers twined in a lock of the woman's hair.

The young man opened one eye, fixing the woman with a gaze blacker than the darkest tunnels-although deep in those depths, there was kindness and concern. "Catherine, are you all right?"

She nodded quickly, not looking at him, but at a wall. "I'm fine."

The young man yawned, flashing a mouth of very white teeth (and a pair of lethal-looking fangs) then opened the other eye. "No, you're not. What's wrong""

"It's foolish, I suppose. You'd laugh if I told you."

"Catherine, when have I ever laughed at something you found serious? Come on-whatever it is, you can tell me."

She sighed, sounding defeated-and worried. "All right-I'm nervous. You have no idea how nervous I am. How are we supposed to keep up the charade that we're one of them; we don't belong with those pompous socialites, we don't belong with the Death Dealers, and we both know it."

Despite the fact that the carriage was in motion, Edward stood, crossed the coach, and sat next to Catherine, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't trouble yourself with this; it's really not going to be a big deal. We're not going to be staying long, we can do this. Now come on, where's that stubborn spirit of yours I came to love?"

Catherine gave what could be considered a bitter grin. "Presently wondering what'll become of us if we cannot keep up this act."

"We can keep it up, it's not that hard."

"Yes, but God forbid the worst happens…we'll be killed, I have no doubt of that. And what will become of Michael? If Viktor, if any of them, knew what he was, do you think he would be shown any mercy?" She clutched the young boy tighter against her; he stirred, but slept on. "He'd be killed, too, and he wouldn't even be able to defend himself."

"Unfortunately, that's the truth of the matter. But no one is going to find out." Edward ran his hand down Catherine's arm, fingering her plain gold wedding band when he reached her hand. "I made you a promise the day we wed-I'd protect you 'til death do we part. I'm not a man to go back on my word."

"You're right, you're right." She sighed again. "It isn't like me to worry myself like this. I have to stop this. I have to stop being so damn pessimistic about this whole situation, it's really not my style."

"Decidedly not, gel." The corners of Edward's lips curled up into a smile. "I'm usually the pessimist in these situations."

She returned his little grin. "Yes, but for a pessimist, you can be pretty optimistic sometimes."

"Well, if you're a somewhat-pessimistic optimist, and I'm a somewhat optimistic pessimist, I would say that makes us both dead-set realists," Edward reasoned.

"Aye."

The carriage began to slow, and wasn't rocking nearly as bad as it had been, implying the path they travelled was now smoother than the one they'd left. Catherine reached over, unlatching a seal that sealed a small metal slit built into the side of the coach, a makeshift window. A gust of lukewarm air blew in as she peered out the opened window.

"We're at the gate of Ordoghaz," she announced, closing the slit and sealing it again.

Edward nodded. "Then let's go out there and fool them all."

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_Well, for now, that's all I have to say, so I hope you enjoyed the show! Don't forget to read **Ace in the Hole** by SpeedDemon315!_


	3. Formalities and Fantasies

_**A/N: **I don't have much to say (I usually don't), so I'm just going to say a quick thank you to **SpeedDemon315** and **keili77** for the reviews and get this show on the road!_

_**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own any of the characters from Underworld. And Edward. I don't own Edward. Just Catherine and Michael._

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"Please leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman

From that moment, you'll be out of place and underdressed

I'm wrecking this evening already and

Loving every minute of it

Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and-

Please leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman

From that moment, you'll be out of place and underdressed

I'm wrecking this evening already and

Loving every minute of it

Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and-

When you're in black slacks with accentuating off-white pinstripes

Oh whoa whoa

Everything goes according to plan."

-"_There's a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered, Honey, You Just Haven't Thought of It Yet_" by Panic! At the Disco

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**Chapter Three: Formalities and Fantasies**

Selene shivered slightly at the cool air of the crypt. Even though, being a vampire, she was nearly impervious to the cold, the crypt had always been abnormally chilly-perhaps because it was underground, perhaps because the two Elders in hibernation wouldn't notice the chill and wouldn't care. But, in the time of important events, such as receiving guests (which, surprisingly, they didn't have many of), the crypt also became a throne room of sorts. They would move to a more inviting location, such as the salon, after the coven as a whole had received the guests.

Viktor sat perched in the large stone chair, looking as regal as if he sat on a throne. Velvet robes, black as a starless night, draped his form, while an intricate medallion of Celtic runes surrounding an ornate capital V hung from his neck. The medallion reminded Selene greatly of the large circular disc on the floor, under which was her sire's sarcophagus.

She stood to the right of his stone throne, employing all her Death Dealer training to keep herself still as a statue. Discreetly, she drummed her fingers against each other, restless, and, admittedly, rather excited. Like most of the other vampires, she couldn't fathom a vampire living outside the comfort and protection of the Ordoghaz coven, or any coven for that matter, and yet, tonight, they would meet _two_.

On the left side of the throne was Kraven, decked out in a velvet waistcoat, silk shirt, and fine linen trousers, all black. A black sword belt circled his waist, holding a massive two-handed broadsword, supposedly the very same sword he'd used to end Lucian's life. There was little chance he'd make use of it during the night; Selene suspected it was merely for show, to impress and intimidate the guests.

_Good luck with that,_ she mused inwardly. _These visitors have lived far outside the coven's protection for Elders knows how long. No doubt, they have seen some impressive and terrifying things. Methinks it'll take more than you sword to impress or intimidate them._

Andreas Tanis, the coven's scribe and historian, stood in front of Selene, a step lower than her. A scroll was open in his hands, and his quill was hovering over the parchment, poised to write. Like Viktor, he was decked out in robes, although his were certainly less impressive and of lesser quality than the Elder's.

Selene frowned. Although she much preferred him over Kraven, Tanis was certainly not her favorite person in the world. Something about the historian had made her feel unsettled-it may have been his oily, sycophant manner, or perhaps it was his sly, I-know-something-you-don't-know-type smiles. Whatever it may have been, Selene generally avoided contact with Tanis.

A burly manservant, one of the handful of human servants Viktor had imported from Buda-Pest, peered out the door; a look of excitement came to his face, and he nodded to Viktor. The Elder straightened in his throne; clearly, the nod was some kind of sign.

Both of the man-servants at the door pulled open the doors, and the soft chatter that had filled the crypt silenced immediately. All heads turned towards the opened doors just as two people stepped into the burial chamber turned throne room.

Selene hadn't been sure what to expect, but the two vampires she saw defied those uncertain expectations. Matter of fact, they looked no different than most of the other vampires within the coven. The dark-haired young man with the startlingly black eyes looked like any of the other socialites that packed the room, though he carried himself like a warrior, suggesting he could just as easily fit in with the Death Dealers. The young brunette with him, who carried a toddler in her arms, could also have been a socialite, but, like Selene, she could have been a warrior once removed from the confines of polite society.

Both visitors approached the dais on which Viktor's throne was perched without a sound; surreptitiously, they took each other's hands, a gesture of closeness and comfort. A few feet from where Viktor sat, the man bowed, while the woman released his hand and swept a fine curtsey. The Elder smiled, clearly pleased by their show of respect.

"Welcome to Ordoghaz," he greeted. "It is good to see you could make it here at my request."

"You asked so nice, how could we refuse?" the woman replied.

He nodded. "And I appreciate it." He cleared his throat, looking up to address the coven. "May I present to you my esteemed guests, Edward Orenstein-?"

"Van Helsing," the man, Edward, corrected gently. "It's Edward Van Helsing."

"Edward Van Helsing," Viktor amended. "And his wife, Catherine."

"Who's the boy?" Kraven asked, somewhat loudly and almost a little suspiciously, pointing to the golden-haired toddler in Catherine's arms, who peered around the crypt in innocent interest.

"Our son," Catherine explained, gazing lovingly upon the little boy. "This is Michael Randolph Van Helsing."

"A darling child," Viktor declared. "Again, I am most pleased you could make as long a journey as you have, especially with such a young child in your company."

Edward shrugged. "It was not a problem."

The Elder nodded, then stood. "Now that the formalities are over, the entertainment may begin. You are all dismissed to the salon to enjoy the evening's festivities."

***

By the time the members of the coven made it to the salon, a few maidservants were already filling goblets with warm cattle blood, courtesy of the herd of cattle the coven kept precisely for that purpose. A few human musicians, brought in from Buda-Pest, had set up in the corner, all of them looking somewhat unnerved by the fact that their employers were the undead. But the tune they were playing was splendid none the less.

A few vampires moved towards the center of the salon, which had been cleared of furniture, ready to dance, but Viktor halted them by holding up his hand.

"As Catherine and Edward are our welcome guest, I believe it only fair that they are allotted the first dance," he declared. "I insist."

They both exchanged glances, then, Catherine set their son down and they moved towards the improvised dancing floor. Viktor stepped towards Michael, as though he was going to pick him up, but he whimpered and instead moved towards Selene, holding his arms out to her. She was fairly certain that gesture meant he wanted to be picked up; though she was somewhat confused as to why he didn't want Viktor touching him. However, she put that thought out of her mind and instead picked the little boy up. He brightened up immediately and turned his attention towards the dance floor.

Out on the floor, Edward placed one hand at his wife's waist, clasping her other hand. "Ready, gel?" he whispered into her ear.

She nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

The music swelled, and they both lapsed into a dance. Selene was caught off-guard by the magnitude of their grace; vampires were graceful as it was, but Edward and Catherine glided over the floor with an unsurpassed refinement. She almost found herself a little jealous.

But that envious twinge was fleeting. After a moment, it passed, only to be replaced with what could only be described as a fantasy. She saw herself gliding across the same floor Edward and Catherine were gliding over, in Jarek's arms. She could see, in her mind's eye, every line and plane of Jarek's handsome face, his warm, chocolate eyes, and the beautiful black curls that adorned his head and always fell in his face. She could even hear him whispering sweet nothings in her ear, the thought of his pleasing, unusual accent sending chills down her spine.

Her reverie, like her fleeting envy, soon passed, and she found that Edward and Catherine had completed their dance. They bowed, the coven applauded, and once formalities such as those had been swept aside, the coven members swarmed the floor for a dance of their own.

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_Well, I hope you all enjoyed! Please come back! :D_


	4. Breaking Down Walls and Overstepping

_**A/N: **Bright good morning to all, and welcome back to Dark Ripples in Blood! I'd like to apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter and running, that was my fault. I got preoccupied with other things...Anyways, I'd like to thank **SpeedDemon315** and **keili77** for the reviews! I appreciate the love very much!_

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own anyone from Underworld, and Edward's still on loan from SpeedDemon315..._

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"I'm hating what she's wearing

Everybody here keeps staring

Can't they tell they get what they deserve?

_This time, somebody's getting hurt_

Here comes the next contestant

Is that your hand on my girlfriend?

Is that your hand?

I wish you'd do it again

_I'll watch you leave here limping_

I wish you'd do it again

_I'll watch you leave here limping_

I wish you'd do it again

_Each night seems like it's getting worse_

I wish you'd do it again

_This time, somebody's getting hurt_

There goes the next contestant."

-"_Next Contestant_" by Nickelback

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**Chapter Four: Breaking Down Walls and Overstepping Boundaries**

As the majority of the coven poured onto the improvised dance floor, Edward and Catherine slipped off to the sidelines. A maid wandered past, bearing a tray of blood-filled goblets, and Edward snatched two, passing one to his wife.

"So far, so good." He clinked his glass against Catherine's. "Cheers, gel, and job well done."

A smile came to her face. "Thank you, dear-you did wonderful as well."

"You both really did," a voice piped up from behind. Turning around, the couple found the young, black-haired vampiress that had been at Viktor's side. She held Michael, who was all smiles and had his little fingers tangled in her raven tresses. She gave the little boy a gentle smile.

Edward nodded. "Thank you very much, Miss-?"

"Selene," she answered promptly, realizing neither of them knew her name. "I'm Selene-Viktor's protégé."

"See-lene!" Michael squealed happily.

Catherine smiled to her son. "Did you have fun staying with Selene, little fellow?"

He nodded vigorously, hugging the black-haired vampiress as if she were a treasured toy. As he did so, a strange sort of feeling filled Selene-a warm, loving sort of sensation. Strange as it seemed, knowing she had the approval of this small boy was almost as important as knowing she had Viktor's approval, or even Jarek's approval. And yet, as this warmth filled her, the cold, painful stab of memories hit her as well. She remember how Eva and Lydia were at Michael's age-insatiably curious, undeniably brave and adventurous, and outright adorable. Like the child in her arms, Eva and Lydia had so much potential. But their potential had been robbed from them, their little lives snuffed out with no though, no shame, and-if Selene knew lycans-no remorse.

"Selene? Are you all right?"

She dragged herself away from her melancholy thoughts and found Michael's mother peering intently at her with concerned eyes. She forced a look of contentment. "I'm fine-merely thinking about something."

Catherine opened her mouth to respond, but was suddenly cut off by a loud, rather boisterous voice.

"Selene!" Kraven called, walking up to her and placing an arm around her waist. His greedy eyes slowly wandered up and down her form. "You look ravishing tonight."

She had to fight back a sigh of exasperation. "Hello, Kraven."

He flashed a grin, but suddenly, he seemed to notice Catherine out the corner of his eye. Quick as a wink, he was at Catherine's side, an arm around her shoulder. "Hello, beautiful-that is what Catherine means, does it not?"

"Actually, it means _pure_," she corrected, her eyes darting about in hopes of an escape.

Kraven ignored her response. "I realized that Viktor never introduced me, nor did I introduce myself. I am Kraven of Leicester, regent of the coven and estate of Ordoghaz."

"A pleasure to meet you, Kraven."

"Yes. Charmed," Edward grounded out between clenched teeth.

"Would you do me the honors of a dance?"

"Well…I suppose so…only if it's all right with my husband…"

Kraven glanced over at Edward, his licentious grin still plastered on his face. "Oh, he won't mind…" His grin suddenly turned cold, his glare icy enough to freeze Hell. "_Will he?_"

Edward shot him a look poisonous enough to kill an ox, his teeth clenched tight and fangs flashing. "_One_ dance. And be gentle with my wife."

"I will be!" he insisted.

"You'd _better_ be."

Kraven took Catherine's hand, leading her back out onto the dance floor, while Edward glared daggers at the dark-haired, lusty vampire. In Selene's arms, Michael took a long, deep breath, stuck out his tongue, and proceeded to blow a long, loud raspberry in Kraven's direction. Chuckling a little, Edward tousled the boy's blonde locks.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, son."

"That was quite impressive," someone else commented. With no prior warning, Jarek strolled up, between Selene and Edward. He was dressed splendidly in a forest green tunic and black breeches, black boots adorning his feet. A black sash was slung across his chest, adorned with metals, tokens of gratitude for his valiant service as a Death Dealer. As always, his hair was out of control, his raven curls sticking up all over the place and falling in his eyes. Michael giggled, delighted by Jarek's comment, before proceeding to blow another raspberry at Kraven. Jarek gave a booming laugh.

"Just don't do that to his face," he warned the toddler, who only burst into more laughter.

"Something tells me he's just going to do it anyways," Edward commented drolly. The Death Dealer turned his attention to coven guest as he spoke.

"You must be our esteemed guest." He extended his hand. "Jarek Lakotas."

Edward took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Edward Van Helsing. The boy is my son, Michael."

"He's charming." Jarek gave a small, puzzled frown. "I thought I saw a woman get out of the carriage with you…"

"You did-my wife, Catherine. She's presently dancing with Kraven."

Jarek nodded in understanding. "I see." He then turned to Selene. "Would you care for a dance, Selene?"

The young vampire's heart sped up; she could hardly believe what she was hearing. Had Jarek not been standing before her, awaiting her answer, she would have pinched herself to make sure she was dreaming. Finally, she managed a nod. "I would l-love to."

He extended a hand to her, which she accepted, a strange, giddy tingle zipping through her body. For a moment, she hesitated, wondering what to do with Michael, whom she still held, but Edward quickly stepped in and took his son back, leaving her free to dance. Jarek quickly whisked her out onto the dance floor, falling gracefully into the same waltz that the other members of the coven were dancing to.

Everything seemed very surreal to Selene, like a dream she, under no circumstances, wanted to awaken from. Much to her delighted surprise, Jarek was a splendid dancer, spinning her about the makeshift dance floor with the greatest of ease. She kept up as best as she could-she hadn't learned many dances as a girl, nor did she ever have an instructor teach her any dances, but there had been village celebrations: weddings, May Day, celebrations of the harvest, and days such as All Hallows' Eve and All Saints' Day. She had learned a few dances during those celebrations.

"You look lovely tonight," Jarek complimented.

Blood began to rush in Selene's veins, driven to excitement by his words. She gave a small smile. "Thank you, Jarek-you look very handsome yourself." She peered at him curiously. "I don't recall seeing you down in the crypt."

"That's because I was getting dressed while everyone else was down in the crypt," he explained. "I was part of that small contingent of Death Dealers that rode out. I figured I'd come to the party in something a little nicer than my battle armor."

She nodded in understanding, falling silent to simply enjoy dancing with Jarek. She couldn't help but wonder what it was that had suddenly overtaken her-why it was that every little aspect of Jarek, and every little thing he did, suddenly drove her crazy. Was it love? Could it be that she found herself attracted to her mentor to the point of love?

_But Death Dealers are hardened warriors,_ she argued back silently. _They don't have room for love; don't time to deal with the throes of a relationship. _And yet, she had seen a few male Death Dealers be greeted by females of the coven, maids and ladies alike, with passionate embraces and heated kisses. She'd seen the select few female Death Dealers strolling down the halls of Ordoghaz, dressed in full body armor, with a man on their arm, often noblemen, occasionally servants, even a human slave once or twice. She'd even seen male and female Death Dealers exchanging kisses before riding off on particularly dangerous assignments. And, of course, there was Kraven's never ending infatuation for her. She couldn't help but take all that into account.

Perhaps a Death Dealer had time for romance after all.

***

While Selene may have been enjoying the company of her dancing partner, Catherine, on the other hand, was not. Rather, she was bored out of her skull, and it showed on her face as she and Kraven whirled about on the dance floor. Despite Edward's one-dance limit, Kraven had refused to relinquish her, and they were now on their third dance. And Kraven had spent the entire time prattling on and on about his different conquests on the battlefield-presently, he was bending Catherine's ear about his triumph over Lucian.

"-I found him in his study, his command center, I suppose it was. He didn't even see me coming-he was too preoccupied with what was going on outside. He must have heard me, though-at the last second, he turned back around to face me. He tried to fight, but I made quick work of him," the regent boasted. "After all, what chance does a rebel and a former slave and blacksmith have against a well-trained Death Dealer?"

"Oh, that's very interesting," Catherine replied, though her face betrayed her words.

Kraven took no notice to his dance partner's apathy to the subject. "Once he was dead, I cut Lord Viktor's brand from his arm, to present as a trophy to Lord Viktor. Then, taking a torch from the wall, I set fire to that fetid den and led the Death Dealers home to victory."

"How wonderful for you," Catherine grounded out, her sapphire eyes darting about, searching for any chance of escape. Again, Kraven didn't seem to notice.

"Would you care to see it? The branded skin? Tanis, our historian, has it safely in the archives, a reminder for future generations as to who is the better species."

"I think I'll pass, thank you."

"So, tell me, Lady Catherine, what is it you do? Are you a warrior yourself?" Kraven asked.

"When the occasion calls for it," she replied vaguely.

"What do you and your husband do?"

"Travel, mostly. Do odd jobs as a source of revenue, although there is old money in my family."

Kraven eyed her appraisingly. "Bit of a mystery, aren't you, Lady Catherine?"

"If you leave yourself an open book, people are likely to take advantage of you," Catherine cautioned him. "If you divulge information when you think a person is ready to hear it and only then, they're less likely to take advantage of you."

"Very wise words, very wise," the raven-haired vampire complimented. "Thought of that all by yourself, did you?"

"It's mere common sense," she replied, taking no note of the almost patronizing tone at Kraven's question.

All around them, the men dipped their partners low, slowly, in time with the music. Kraven's hand slid up Catherine's back before he dipped her back, much to her surprise. He couldn't help but gaze down at her, couldn't help but admire how her bosom threatened to break free from the neckline of her dress because she was being tipped backwards, how her head fell back to display a slender, pale throat, the pale blue lines of numerous canal-like veins and arteries just visible beneath her skin, how her thick brown hair just brushed the floor. Like Selene, she was a classic, almost innocent sort of beauty, one he found much to his liking. Selene was still the apple of his eye, not to mention his future queen, but he knew he certainly wouldn't mind Catherine as a mistress, a way to liven up the monotony of monogamy. Driven by a strong stab of lust, he brushed a hand up Catherine's leg, from down on her calf to halfway up her thigh, making her give a loud squeak of shock.

Still off on the sidelines, Edward watched as Kraven proceeded to dance three dances with his wife, who looked utterly miserable in his arms. The twinge of jealousy at watching another man in such intimate proximity with his wife only surged when he watch Kraven dip her back, letting his eyes linger on her face, neck, and chest, before sliding a hand up her leg. He clenched his teeth, his fangs extending to their maximum length. _How dare he ogle Catherine like that, touch her in such a manner! _

In his father's arms, Michael crossed his little arms, glaring at Kraven as he overstepped all boundaries of propriety, particularly propriety with a married woman. "That man mean," he declared, lisping slightly through his baby teeth. "He make you mad, Daddy. He no make Mummy happy, either. Me no like him."

"Neither do I, Michael, neither do I," Edward assured the disgruntled toddler. Suddenly, an idea sprang to mind, and he looked down at his son "But we can get Mummy away from mean ol' Kraven and back over here with us."

Michael eyed him with big, curious azure eyes. "How?"

"Can you start crying, little one? Mummy will come right over if you start crying."

His little face lit up. "Rweally?!"

Edward nodded. "Really."

Michael proceeded to screw up his little face, readying a cry, and, after a moment, he let loose a scream that would put a banshee to shame. Startled by the child's cry, the orchestra stopped playing; the dancers came to a halt, watching Michael as he fussed.

"Michael!" Catherine exclaimed. She began to fight her way out of Kraven's arms, finally freeing herself by stomping on his foot. She hurried across the floor to where Edward stood, pretending to by trying to console Michael; she took him into her arms and he instantly stopped shrieking, settling for whimpers instead.

"Sorry," she apologized to everyone on the floor. "He must be tired, that's the only time he's this cantankerous. We'll just take him to bed…carry on."

The three of them ducked out of the salon as the party resumed, and, as soon as they were a safe distance away from the salon, Michael looked up at his parents, all smiles. "How I do, Daddy?"

"Brilliant," Edward praised, ruffling his golden locks.

"You two planned that, didn't you?" Catherine asked, dissolving into laughter. "That was perfect! Absolutely brilliant!"

"Fank you, Mummy!" Michael cheered, lovingly resting his head against his mother's shoulder.

"Yes, thank you, gel," Edward responded smoothly, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist.

"You're welcome, both of you," she replied. "Now, let's retire-I think we've all had enough excitement for this evening."

* * *

_And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you do not trifle with Catherine. Edward and Michael will get you back :D Hope you enjoyed and see you next time!_

_And yes, with Michael's sentences, I purposefully screwed with the grammer. Have you ever known a two-year-old with good grammer?_


	5. Wolves at the Door

_**A/N: **At last! After two days of trying to upload this darn thing, it's here! For some reason, Fanfiction refused to accept the file...that aside, I would like to thank **SpeedDemon315** and **keili77** for their reviews! Enjoy chapter five (tis nice and long for your reading pleasure!)_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the amazingness of Underworld, nor do I own Edward (he's on loan from SpeedDemon315). But other than that, I do own everything else..._

* * *

The future doesn't pass

And the past won't overtake the present

All the remains is an obsolete illusion

We are afraid of all the things that could not be

A phantom agony

Do we dream at night?

Or do we share the same old fantasy?

I am a silhouette of the person wandering in my dreams

The age-old development of consciousness

Drives us away from the essence of life

We meditate too much, so that our instincts will fade away

They fade away."

_-"The Phantom Agony (Single Version)"_ by Epica

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**Chapter Five: Wolves at the Door**

_The halls of Ordoghaz were, as usual, dark, lit only by elegant flambeaux filled with flickering candles, placed every five feet or so down the long stretch of hallway. What surprised-and unnerved-Selene was the lack of people. Usually, the halls of the sprawling estate were packed with vampires._

_But wait! As she took another long look at her surroundings, she came to realize it was not Ordoghaz. The familiar plaster walls were gone, replaced with cold stone. The flagstones beneath her feet were chilly, missing the imported rugs and animal skins that covered the floors in the manor. Tapestries, displaying scenes of roughly eight centuries of vampiric existence decorated the walls, all tastefully woven by skilled hands. _

_To her left, there came a soft noise, like fabric of some sort falling to the floor. Whipping her head around to stare in the direction of the sound, she found that a tapestry had fallen to the floor, revealing a mirror, complete with an elaborate frame that she swore was made from real gold, hanging on the wall. Drawn insatiably, she hesitantly approached the mirror, only to fall back in surprise a moment later._

_The reflection staring back at her was that of a stranger, a young girl no older than seven or eight. Her skin was pale and fine as porcelain from the Orient, as if the sun had never touched it, while her jet-black hair fell around her angelic face in perfect curls. A fine black kirtle, made from silk of the highest quality, clothed her minute frame, while a beautiful golden medallion, sporting a turquoise stone as the centerpiece, hung from around her neck, hanging almost all the way down to her stomach. The only feature on the girl that Selene found familiar was her brown eyes, peering at her with the wisdom of ages._

_Baffled, Selene approached the mirror tentatively, raising her left hand. The reflection copied her movements perfectly. She reached up and touched her hair, which was still plaited into a single braid, as it had been when she had gone to bed. The reflection touched her curly locks._

_This only served to confuse the Death Dealer in training further. Was she the little girl in the mirror? Doing a quick once-over, she realized she hadn't changed at all-same braided jet hair, same pristine white nightgown, and same appearance of that of a very pale nineteen-year-old woman. And yet, the mirror reflected her as a child-moreover, a child she did not recognize. She knew the child in the mirror was not her: when she had been little, her hair was a bit lighter, her skin brown from spending every day in the sun, and her family had never had the money to avoid as fine a kirtle as the one the child in the mirror wore. As for the medallion, it looked familiar, like something she'd seen long ago, but hadn't seen fit to remember. She couldn't recall where it might have crossed her path. _

_Her sense, honed to an exceptionally keen level as every other Death Dealer's senses were, alerted her to the presence of others in the hallway-she was not alone. She looked around, only to find that Viktor stood at the other end of the hallway, splendid as always, in his robes of black velvet, a tender smile on his face. Crouching behind him was a boy, roughly fifteen years of age, with a shock of messy dark hair that fell to his shoulders. He was slender, with wiry, sinewy muscles filling out his build slightly; he was bare-chested, his exposed skin smeared with dirt. He, too, spared Selene a small smile, though his brown eyes were kept downcast, as though he'd been trained from the day of his birth to never make eye contact while speaking. _

_She hurried towards her sire, lifting the skirt of her shift slightly so as not to trip over the hem. As she moved, she passed more tapestries; they fell as she passed, revealing more mirrors. In each mirror, she found herself aging, going from a mere girl of eight to a girl of twelve or thirteen, on the brink of adolescence, then to sixteen, in the full bloom of adolescence, finally, aged to the age she was, a full-fledged woman. But still, she was not herself-her hair was thick, hanging loose and free, with small braids scattered throughout, and she wore a dress composed of chainmail, with a sturdy black corset over it. _

_As she moved close to her sire, and aged through the mirrors, the young boy behind Viktor aged with her. His hair grew more, falling to his upper back, tangling more as it did so. Stubble sprouted on his cheeks and above his upper lip, until a beard carpeted his jaw and a moustache had grown. A strange collar materialized around his neck, the spikes in it pricking his throat; the familiar glimmer of silver shone in the low light. _

_She finally came to a stop before Viktor, smiling at him and hoping to the dark gods he could explain what was going on. All he did was stare at her, his tender smile fading, until anger and betrayal had hardened his face._

"_Abomination…" he whispered. "This love…a disgrace…how could you…betray me so?"_

"_Betray you? Lord Viktor, I've done no such thing!" she insisted, but her voice was that of a stranger. The man crouching in the background looked, frankly, scared to death, his brown eyes darting from the Elder to Selene. Said Elder began to back away, all the while eyeing her in disgust._

"_This indiscretion cannot go unpunished…"_

"_Justice…justice…justice…" came a faint echo, seemingly from the walls themselves._

_Then, out of nowhere, there was a burst of light, shining right down upon her. Pain, the likes of which she'd never felt before, erupted all over her body, as the devastating rays set her hair aflame and burned her skin until it was blackened beyond recognition. As she burned, she saw that the nameless, bearded man was restrained by Viktor. While there was a look of vindication and grim satisfaction on the Elder's face, the man looked not only horrified, but devastated as well. Tears streamed down his grimy face._

_And then…a name, shouted out in dismay and terror._

"_SONJA!"_

"_Sonja…Sonja…Sonja…Sonja…" the walls whispered as she burned. "Sonja…"_

***

With a loud gasp of terror, Selene shot bolt upright in her bed, throwing her arms up to try to shield her from the sun, which was beating down upon her remorselessly. It took her several frantic heartbeats to realize that there was no actual sun-her room was just as it had been when she had fallen asleep-black as pitch, with no ounce of sunlight able to penetrate the thick drapes and wooden shutters blocking the window.

She lowered her arms slightly, gazing at her hands as she did. Her skin was smooth and pale as always, not blackened, as it had been in her dream. However, they shook violently, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a film of cold sweat glued her nightgown to her body.

She was terrified. Out and out terrified.

It took another long minute or two for her to fully come away from the terror that was her nightmare; she tried to return to her more stoic demeanor, so as to take a look at her dream logically, and try to figure out why it had terrified her. Such a technique was something Viktor had taught her to do, in order to make her a better Death Dealer. She knew she had to cast her fears aside and rationalize them.

"It's foolish, really," she murmured, throwing back her covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, resting her hands in her lap. "That woman I saw wasn't even me. They didn't call me by name. They called me Sonja-who is Sonja?" Her fingers drummed restlessly on her lap. "I don't even know who the other man was. I shouldn't get myself worked up-this dream doesn't mean anything, nothing at all." A derisive snort escaped her. "Someone must have put something into the blood to give it a bit of extra flavor."

Dismissing her nightmare as a delusion possibly brought on by blood spiked with alcohol, Selene laid back down, hoping for perhaps a bit more shut-eye. However, as she did, she heard something: The pounding of hooves-or feet-against the ground, as if a massive herd of warhorses was charging Ordoghaz. Listening intently, she heard a low growl, coming from outside. She sat back up, a stirring of dread in her stomach.

"It can't be…"

Bounding out of bed, she hurried to her window, throwing back the drapes. Hesitantly, she opened the wooden shutters, ready in case she had to dodge an onslaught of deadly sunbeams. Much to her relief, however, the sky outside was dusky, with all traces of the sun gone. But that relief vanished when she looked down, to be instantly replaced with shock-and horror.

A huge pack of lycans, numbering no less than two dozen, charged towards the vampires' estate, moonlight glinting off their long, lethal canines. Some ran on two legs, while others opted for four. They were a fierce lot, all with matted black pelts, some sporting broken canines. The lead of the pack, a massive beast with the build of an alpha, threw back his head and gave a loud, baying howl, which the other lycans answered with howls of their own.

Abandoning her place at the window, Selene hurried across the room, yanking the door open. Several other vampires stuck their heads out into the hall, and some meandered out of their rooms. All bore expressions akin to lost sheep.

"Sound the alarm!" the female Death Dealer in training cried out. "Someone find Viktor and alert him! Someone go get Jarek and tell him to gather the Death Dealers! The wolves are at our door _right now!_"

A laughed echoed down the corridor, and the milling vampire crowd parted as Kraven strolled up. His lips were curled into a cocky, amused smile, while he had hastily thrown on a dressing gown, but had failed to tie it, exposing his bare chest. Silently, Selene thanked whatever deity that may have still watched over her that Kraven, at least, wore pants when he slept.

"Now, now, Selene, do calm yourself," he ordered, approaching her and slinging an arm around her shoulder. Looking at the gathering crowd, he chuckled, as if it were all a big joke. "She's merely letting anxiety get the best of her-aren't you, Selene?" He glanced at her, flashing a warm smile that she spotted as a fake in an instant. "The beasts may be baying outside, but at our door? Don't you think you're exaggerating just a bit?"

A loud bang resonated through the hall, coming from downstairs. It was followed up by roars and growls, along with several startled shrieks. Selene shoved Kraven away, fixing him with a stony glare. "Tell me, do you think I'm exaggerating _now?_"

Several indignant cries sounded out as someone started shoving their way through the crowd of vampires. Jarek slowly appeared through the throng, shoving and elbowing his way to the front; he was still dressed in his clothes from earlier-including the sash decorated with all the accolades that testified to his rank of Death Dealer captain. As he stormed forward, he turned around, eyeing those in the corridor.

"Listen up! It's clear that we have a situation!" he barked. "This is not the time to lose your heads! Death Dealers, report downstairs as soon as possible, bring all the weaponry you can keep track of. Everyone else, grab whatever weapons you can find and follow after them."

"Wait just a moment!" a man cried in outrage. "You expect us to fight? We are not Death Dealers, Jarek! We are nobles! Your soldiers should be capable of protecting us; why should we have to raise a hand against…those…beasts..?" The man slowly trailed off as Jarek fixed him with a glare that could have skinned an ox.

"Are you or are you not a member of this coven?" he asked quietly, receiving only silence from the man. "Answer, man! Are you or are you not a member of this coven? Are you or are you not under the fealty of the three glorious Elders, whether through their blood or that of their fledglings?"

"I a-am."

"I thought so. And what you're saying is that you're willing to stand back and watch this place literally go to the dogs before you pick up a sword and try to defend what's yours and all ours?"

"I n-never said t-that…"

"What you're saying is that you think you're better than the Death Dealers-too good to actually have to fight for your home?"

"O-Of course n-not…"

The vampire's eyes flashed wintry blue. "Then I expect to see your ass out there, contributing to the fight." Once more, he eyed the crowd, before barking out one final order: "Move out!"

Selene found herself quite taken aback. She knew Jarek could be tough-being the captain of the Death Dealers was not a job for those who couldn't crack the whip every now and again-but she never knew he could be so…_intimidating_. This new side of him sent a chill down her spine, but, at the same time, something stirred deep in her core, a heavy, throbbing ache of…_want_. She liked this Jarek as much as she liked the tender-hearted one.

Realizing now was a grossly inappropriate time for her own selfish want, she forced her thoughts back to the present, analyzing the situation carefully-lycans had stormed the manor, she was in her sleeping chemise and not much more, and had no weaponry, neither on her nor in her bedroom-it was all in the armory, three floors up, near the dojo. _I need a sword. Quickly._

"I believe you need a sword," Kraven stated next to her.

She turned to face him, ready to blurt out what was on her mind-that being _thank you, Kraven, the obvious has been bloody stated!_-when she saw it. Hanging from the sword belt at his waist was a massive two-handed sword, the very same one he claimed to have put Lucian to death with.

_Tonight,_ Selene decided silently, _that sword shall be receiving another workout._

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." Quicker than he could comprehend, she had seized the hilt, whipping the sword from its scabbard. She hefted it aloft, admiring both the glint of the silver blade in the torchlight and the dumbfounded look on Kraven's face. "This will do most nicely-I thank you for your contribution, Kraven."

Before he could reply, she turned tail and took off, straight towards the fight that was raging downstairs. Adrenaline pumped through her system, aiding her speed.

It was time for some old-fashioned righteous killing.

***

The front hall of Ordoghaz was a nightmare, a scene that could have had Satan wincing from its ghastliness. Immortal blood, both vampiric and lycanthropic, was splattered everywhere-the plaster walls, the opulent furniture, the stone floor and the rich rugs that hid it. Several chairs had been overturned, some with broken legs and torn cushions. A few corpses lay on the floor already, and some of the injured were fleeing the battle to lick their wounds (sometimes literally, in the case of the lycans). The rest were locked in battle-the so-called children of the Devil versus the so-called hounds of Hell.

Not even missing a beat, Selene vaulted over the banister of the staircase, dropping down at least ten feet straight into the heat of the battle. The sword was an awkward weight in her hand: not necessarily heavy, not with her preternatural strength, but awkward to hold and balance, as she was used only to the weight of the wooden shinai **(1)** and of lighter, smaller practice swords. That failed to deter her, however, and she charged into battle.

Hefting the sword with two hands, she swung it at the nearest lycan, a smaller, possibly female one that was seconds from gouging the eyes of a screaming maidservant out. The blade bit deep into the lycan's back, opening a gash that spewed blood and filled Selene's nostrils with the scent of burning lycan hair and flesh. Enraged, the beast lunged at her, jaws snapping. She hit the ground quickly to avoid the jaws, then rolled onto her back, throwing one arm up to shield her face from any incoming teeth or claws, while thrusting the sword up, into the wolf's chest. A savage roar ended abruptly, letting her know that her aim had been true. Sitting up, she found a dead lycan impaled at the end of her swiped sword; she braced one foot against the body, which had already regressed back into its human form, and yanked the sword out, before getting to her feet and charging off to find her next opponent.

She made it out of her first fight unscathed, but her luck did not remain as such. Against her second opponent, she received several bruises on her stomach and chest, a result of being body-slammed by a werewolf, before she got her revenge in the form of a ruthless cut to the groin. Her third opponent left her with four scratches on her shoulder. By the time she'd faced five werewolves, she had a twisted ankle and a bloody nose in addition to the bruises and cuts. She darted into a small alcove, pressing the sleeve of her nightgown to her nose in hopes of stemming the blood flow. After a moment, blood stopped trickling, and she lowered her arm. A new splotch of blood had been added to her gown, which would probably be disposed of at the end of the night. All the lye soap in the world wouldn't be able to remove all the blood from her nightgown.

Wiping the remnants of her nosebleed from above her upper lip, she lifted Kraven's sword again and prepared to charge back into the battle. And then, she heard it…

A child's shriek echoed through the room, catching her attention. It was close; looking around, she spotted the source of the scream. A small, golden-haired boy had been backed into a corner by a werewolf; saliva dripped from the beast's jaws, steady as the frightened tears trickling down the little boy's face. The female vampire's eyes widened as she recognized the child-it was little Michael Van Helsing!

And it looked as though the werewolf intended to make the Van Helsing boy his next meal.

She exploded from the shadowy alcove, raising her sword high above her head as she charged the beast. A loud cry burst from her lips as she brought the sword down, lopping the lycan's head off with on clean stroke. The head rolled away, under a chair that was miraculously still in one piece and upright, while the body collapsed, the stump of the neck gushing hot werewolf blood. Terrified, Michael looked up to his savior.

"See-lene!" he cried out frantically, holding out his arms. She swiftly lifted him into her arms, dropping her sword so as to accommodate the boy. He trembled violently in her arms, burying his face into her shoulder. She felt something warm and wet seeping into her shoulder: Michael's terrified tears.

"See-lene…" he whimpered.

"It's all right, Michael," she murmured soothingly, holding him protectively against her.

"I want Mummy…"

"We'll find your mother, I promise." She turned around, scanning the room for any sign of the petite brunette that was his mother. She found none.

But what she did find was a lycan approaching her slowly, akin to a lioness stalking her prey. Selene's sword lay at her feet; her arms were occupied with Michael. Her heart sped up-this was a dire situation, and she knew it. Any sudden movement to run, or to grab her sword, and the beast would pounce. If it pounced, from its position, it would hit her head-on. If it hit her head-on, Michael would be more severely injured than she would be-he could possibly be killed. And even if she did manage to grab her sword to block an onslaught, she couldn't guarantee she could fight a lycan and still be able to keep the child in her arms-he could be dropped, he could be snatched…he could be clawed or bitten by a werewolf. She knew the werewolf would show her no mercy, and could guarantee that it would show no mercy to two-year-old Michael.

_We're done for…_

She hunched over slightly, shielding the little boy as best as she could with her body, and clutched him tightly with a free hand, while the other reached for her blade. The lycan saw, his muscles tensed-he was ready to pounce.

A loud roar tore through the warring room, silencing everyone, halting them in their tracks, and captivating their attention. Selene looked towards the door, curious as to whom her savior was.

A lycan, tall and bristling with black fur, male judging by the build, stood in the doorway. He was quite a massive beast, but his built was a bit too small, and not muscled enough, to suggest he was an alpha.

His roar, however…oh, he roared like a true alpha male. Every lycan in the room dropped to the ground, bowing their heads and exposing their necks, while the vampires stared on, baffled.

As soon as every lycan was on their knees, the newcomer stopped roaring, eyeing them all with what the vampires could only see as a look of disgust and disappointment. Several low growls and barks escaped his muzzle, as if he were issuing the lycans orders.

And then, the beasts all stood and loped out the door, quickly; Selene betted that if they'd had tails, said tails would have been between their legs. As soon as the last lycan had filed out, the newcomer eyed the surprised vampires, nodded once, then vanished into the night.

Silence ruled the room, as many vampires exchanged confused looks. Even Michael glanced up at Selene, a questioning look on his little face. She responded with an equally confused look.

"It's…it's over," Kahn, the second-in-command of the Death Dealers, declared uncertainly. "I think we've won."

"Michael? Michael?! Oh God, Michael?!" came a woman's panicked cry, echoing in the vast room.

"Michael?!" a male's voice called.

"Mummy! Daddy!" the little boy yelled, squirming in Selene's arms. Her keen eyes spotted a flutter of movement in the crowd, and, in an instant, Catherine appeared, dressed in nothing more than a man's shirt that was far too big for her and smeared with blood. Her face was ashen, her hair was a mess, and her eyes held a panicky, almost crazed look, which melted into relief the moment she spotted her son.

"My baby!" She hurried up, pulling her son into her embrace as he wriggled out of Selene's hold. "Edward, I found him! Selene had him! He's all right!"

"Thank heavens," Edward replied, appearing at his wife's side, wearing only a pair of black pants, bare-chested and bare-footed. Like his wife, he was smeared with blood, and his hair stuck up at odd angles. He took Michael, who had burst into tears of relief, while Catherine turned her attention to Selene. Suddenly, the vampiress found herself trapped in the brunette's embrace-which, given her tiny frame, was surprisingly strong.

"God bless you, Selene!" she cried out. "Thank you, thank you for finding him! I was so afraid he'd been killed, or carried off, or devoured…"

"You're welcome," Selene answered, unsure as to how else to reply. After a moment more of feverish thanks, Catherine let go and proceeded to return her attention to her son, fussing over the little boy, making sure absolutely was wrong with him.

Those still standing in the foyer began to move, stepping aside, clearing a path through which Viktor strolled, followed closely by Jarek. The Elder eyed the dead lycans with distaste; he stopped at every injured vampire and helped said vampire to its feet, instructing those around to usher the poor soul to the hospital wing. Next, he encountered Catherine and Edward, who were working in tandem to soothe their hysterical child. Edward held him, rocking him gently, while Catherine rubbed his small back, cooing softly in a strange language. Viktor stooped down, and when he stood back up, he held two things: a blood-stained sword in one hand, and an arrow with a shining silver head. It took Selene a moment to realize those must have been the weapons the duo had been using.

"Silver-headed arrows," Viktor mused, eyeing the arrow appraisingly. "And here, I thought I had seen everything. Tell me, which of you is good with the bow?"

"I am," Catherine answered simply, glancing at the Elder.

"Although, her prowess with a blade is not to be taken lightly," Edward threw in, giving a small smile.

"I take it this is your blade, though?"

Edward nodded. "Yes."

"Most impressive. I have no doubt you two are fine warriors." He returned the arrow and the blade to the floor, where he had found them, and moved along, heading towards Selene. Catherine returned to tending to her son, whose cries had picked up in Viktor's presence; she sang quietly, still stroking his back. Selene caught a few stray words of the lullaby and realized she was singing not in English or Hungarian, but Romanian.

Viktor stopped before his protégé, taking in her ragged appearance. His eyes softened with concern. "You're not too badly hurt, are you, my child?"

She shook her head. "No, my Lord, not too bad."

"I saw you during the fight," Jarek informed her. "Most impressive. You showed them no mercy." He playfully chucked her chin. "That's a girl. You're going to make a fine Death Dealer."

A surge of pride rushed through her at his words. "I'm glad you think so. I would hate to disappoint."

He eyed the blade. "That looks like Kraven's sword."

"It is. I need to give it back to him. I took it without asking." She looked around the room, searching for the familiar, insufferable vampire. "Where is he?"

"He's gone," Viktor replied.

* * *

**_Word Glossary:_**

(1) Shinai-A wooden sword used as a substitute for a two-handed sword in practice fencing. Lightweight and easy to swing.

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Well, I'm terribly sorry about the wait between chapters, but I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

Yes, Jarek is Captain of the Death Dealers. I never specified his rank before, but I figure that the best person to train Selene would be the captain. Plus, it makes some future plans even better...

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	6. Away on Business

_**A/N: **I'm honestly amazed I managed to get another chapter out so fast-really, I am. School has been a bit hectic, but, of course, it is only the first two weeks. I'm sure it'll settle into a normal routine soon enough. Anyways...so here's another chapter, and thanks to **SpeedDemon315** and **keili77** for the reviews!_

_**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Underworld. Damn._

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"It's a thankless job

But somebody's got to do it

Peeling off the tissue inch by inch

Skinning off the muscles, too

Harvesting the kidneys for the fall

Saving up the livers in the fridge

No one ever thanks me when I'm done

How self-absorbed people can be."

-"_Thankless Job_" by Anthony Stewart Head (from _Repo! the Genetic Opera_)

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**Chapter Six: Away on Business**

He sat in a very precarious place: close enough to the fire to feel the heat, but far enough that he wasn't being scorched; not too far away to hear the gentle crackling, or to use the flickering light to read by, but just far enough that the noise wasn't deafening and the light wasn't overwhelming. A very thick, old, leather-bound tome, left by the previous occupants of his home, sat in his lap, but he paid it little mind. In truth, he had been staring at the fire in the grate for about a half-hour now, while the book sat, unread. It wasn't that the tale wasn't captivating…it was merely that his mind was otherwise occupied.

No, Lucian was awaiting someone-someone who, at this point, was late and _severely_ trying his patience-and he would not be satisfied until they had arrived. Idly, he tapped his foot, his mounting frustration skillfully hidden under a calm demeanor. His brown eyes watched the dancing flames, as if they could provide him some entertainment.

And then, footsteps, coming from outside his door. He tensed slightly-until he realized they were heavy, too heavy to belong to the one he was waiting on.

A man poked his head into the room, dark eyes staring at the lycan master out of an equally dark face. "Lucian," he began in a deep, _basso profundo_ voice. "He's here."

_About time._

"Send him up," was the simple reply.

With a nod, Raze's head vanished, and his footsteps retreated down the hallway. Not too long after, footsteps, this time much lighter, replaced them. Kraven strode briskly into the room, eyeing the man in the chair before the fire, as if he expected him to leap to his feet and kiss his boots.

Lucian's eyes didn't leave the fire. "You're late."

Kraven opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when he saw the book in Lucian's lap. His brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you couldn't read."

"For the longest time, I couldn't," he answered flatly. "When Sonja and I began to see each other, she took it upon herself to teach me to read." His eyes flickered over to the vampire. "Not, of course, that my education is any of your concern."

Kraven nodded, plastering an unconvincing smile on his face. "Of course." His smile quickly melted away, and he began to pace back and forth, approaching the fireplace, before pacing back past Lucian's chair. The lycan master's eyes flickered heavenward, and a sigh escaped him.

"You do know, of course, that my time is limited. As is yours, if I'm not mistaken."

Kraven paced one more round, up to the fireplace, before stopping and turning around to glare at Lucian. "What the hell was that all about earlier?"

The lycan blinked at him, an expression of what could be called innocence on his face. "What was what all about?"

"The lycans!" Kraven whipped around, fixing Lucian with a glare. "You know they swarmed Ordoghaz mere hours ago, with your man Raze leading the pack! Have you lost your good sense? We're not ready for a full-scale invasion-you know we're nowhere close to finding Corvinus's mortal bloodline! I swear I told you to lie low"

"-What do you think I've been doing?" Lucian growled, dangerously quiet. "I've lain low for six months, ever since we struck our deal, and, at this point, I consider myself quite good at it."

The vampire snorted in disdain. "And you consider that little spectacle at the manor lying low?"

"Kraven, Kraven, Kraven," he replied, shaking his head slowly. "As always, you jump straight to conclusions." He stood slowly, moving towards the fireplace, his hands behind his back. "As you may recall, many of the pack were once under the yoke of Viktor. Those of us who were, needless to say, are none too pleased with him. But if you recall, unlike me, not all the lycans are as patient as I am, particularly when it comes to waiting to exact revenge. Gyorg… Thrassos… Sabas…Xristo…even Raze sometimes can be a bit rash. No doubt, one of them led this little raid."

"While you sat here and did nothing, let one of your men some and stop it," the dark-haired vampire finished venomously.

A fleeting smile passed over Lucian's face, brief as heat lightning in summer. "You really think I simply sat here and did nothing while my pack caused madness and mayhem? No, cousin, I followed them. Matter of fact…who do you think stopped them?"

"Wait-that was you?"

Lucian gave him a look, his dark eyes screaming "Idiot!" at Kraven. "Yes, of course it was me. Why else do you think they obeyed?"

"Oh…right."

Lucian eased himself back into his chair, closing his book and resting it on his lap. "Is that all you come for?"

For a long moment, there was tense silence between the two men. Kraven stared into the fireplace, his mind seemingly somewhere else. Lucian stared at the vampire's back, waiting for him to move, to do something.

"Viktor's received some visitors as of late. They arrived last night-Edward and Catherine Van Helsing." He glanced over his shoulder, to his cohort. "Do you know them?"

"I'm familiar with the name Van Helsing, yes, although there's not much left of that family line. Have you met them yet?"

He nodded. "Edward seems to be a very sullen man-he glared at me when I merely asked his wife for a dance! By the end of the evening, he was scowling to such an extent his forehead was practically touching his chin!"

_Well, knowing how you can be around a woman you find striking, this Edward fellow may have found you asking his wife for a dance an intrusion of the sanctity of his marriage,_ Lucian mused inwardly. _I would if it were Sonja. But then again, that's just me._

"His wife, though-Catherine? Let's just say that Selene's got a little competition." He smirked. "She's a pretty little thing, especially with those sapphire eyes of hers. She'd be good for a little fun."

Lucian raised a brow. "Never mind that she's married?"

"I won't tell if she won't. Although the real challenge will be getting her alone." Kraven made a face. "She's either with her bloody husband or her bouncing baby brat."

"She has a child?" the werewolf asked curiously.

The vampire nodded. "A toddler boy. Last night, at the dance we held to welcome the two of them, things were going so well-I was enjoying a dance with Catherine when that brat screamed and burst into tears, and she went scurrying off to calm him down. Couldn't find her for the rest of the night."

"Well, that's to be expected. He is, after all, her son. No parent can stand silent and do nothing when they hear their child's cry," Lucian reminded him, thinking back to the days shortly after Sonja's birth, how Viktor had dropped everything to tend to the baby girl when she cried, despite the fact he was in mourning for his wife, the late Lady Ilona. Though Viktor wasn't the only one who dropped everything-the lycan-master could still recall watching Sonja day and night, rushing to her side when she wailed, playing nursemaid to the young vampiress well into her childhood years. Despite his young age (only seven years her senior), Viktor had trusted him to look after Sonja…so long as he was under constant supervision of Luka, Sonja's future lady-in-waiting.

Kraven blinked at Lucian, staring at him for a long moment, before the latter snapped out of it and realized that their conversation had ground to a halt, and that he had a rather important question for Kraven.

"What does Viktor want with his two guests? Why did he invite them?"

"Well, he never gave an official reason to the coven," the vampire replied. "But he did have a sit-down with a select few of the coven, myself included. According to him, he wants them as his ambassadors to the rest of Europe-and maybe the rest of the world, if he can persuade them."

"Ambassadors?"

"Without a council, and without an heir, he's afraid to leave the coven for an extended period of time." A sour look overcame his face. "He doesn't trust me enough to leave me in charge of the coven by myself, even though I am his regent."

"Well, looks as though the old bat isn't as foolish as I thought he was," Lucian snickered.

Kraven cut him a withering glare. "That's not amusing."

"However unamusing it may be, you cannot deny that it is the truth." The lycan paused. "Do you think they will accept Viktor's request?"

"I cannot tell. I would think yes, especially since Viktor is offering to pay them for their troubles. But they might turn him down because they might not want to drag their whelp all over Europe. It could go either way." A lecherous grin crept over his face. "If being an ambassador means I could see Catherine every so often, I hope she says yes."

Lucian had to fight down the urge to slap Kraven in the back of the head. "Focus. We have a plan we're trying to accomplish here. Please, let your _brain_ be the organ in charge."

He nodded, though the black smiled remained in place. Lucian sighed.

I am surrounded by incompetence. "Tell me, what do you know about the Van Helsings-aside from the fact that you find Catherine fetching and Edward cannot stand you. How old are they?"

Kraven shrugged. "Not sure."

"Where are they from?"

Another shrug. "Couldn't tell you."

"How did they come to know Viktor?"

Again, a shrug. "Haven't an inkling."

"Are they human or vampire?"

And yet another shrug. "Cannot tell."

"So what you're telling me," Lucian began, his voice tight with frustration, "is that you know absolutely nothing about these two?"

"Viktor told us nothing!" Kraven cried defensively, throwing his hands in the air. "He only said that he intended to ask them to be ambassadors! He told us nothing more than that!"

"Then I trust that when you return to Ordoghaz, you will find out everything about them that you possibly can. And when you gather this information, I trust you will bring so I can make sure he couldn't be trying to use them for a different purpose, such as trying to sniff out conspiracies such as ours. Can I trust you with all that?"

Kraven nodded as Lucian glared at him. "Aye, you can."

"Good." His eyes flickered to the window, looking out into the beyond, where the beginning to lighten over the mountains. "Your room is prepared for you, as always. One of the retainers will inform you when the sun has gone down."

"Thank you-good day, Lucian." Kraven left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Lucian alone. He stared out the window a moment longer, before his eyes flickered back to the fireplace before him, and the dancing flames within.

It was more interesting, anyways.

* * *

_**A/N:** Now, you may be wondering why I chose a song about dismembering people for the song at the beginning. Well, one, it's pretty friggin hilarious, especially if you actually watch the video clip from the movie (warning, this man is a little disturbed). Two, it's a little appropriate for vampires and werewolves. Three-it's more about the message, said message being that Kraven thinks he has a thankless job, but really, when you look at it, it's Lucian who has the thankless job. After all, he has to babysit Kraven, essentially._

_So I hope you guys enjoyed, and look forward to seeing you next time!_

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	7. An Exchange of Words

_**A/N: **Hello, everyone! I know, it's been a long time since I last updated, and I apologize for that...one of my friends talked me into doing NaNoWriMo this year, which has been keeping me quite busy. But I promise I'm working on this story at school, I promise! Anyways, you're probably tired of my excuses and just want to read the damn chapter, so here it is for your reading pleasure! I'd like to thank **SpeedDemon315**, **keili77**, **Rushwriter**, and **me12243** for their reviews!_

_**Disclaimer:** Underworld still isn't mine. It would be awesome if it was mine, though XD_

_

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_

"Yeah, I get it, you're an outcast

Always under attack, always coming in last

Bringing up the past

No one owes you anything

I think you need a shotgun blast, a kick in the ass

So paranoid

Watch your back

Oh my, here we go

Another loose canon gone bipolar

Slipped down, couldn't get much lower

Quicksand's got no sense of humor, I'm still laughing like hell

You think that by crying to me, looking so sorry

That I'm gonna believe you've been affected by a social disease

Well then, take your medicine."

-"_Sound of Madness_" by Shinedown

* * *

**Chapter Seven: An Exchange of Words**

"Out of curiosity, why am I being summoned to this meeting?" Selene asked the maidservant, who was, at the moment, lacing her into a very stiff, very tight corset, presumably of the whalebone-and-cloth variety.

The maidservant shrugged. "Lord Viktor gave me no reason-his reasons are his own and it's not my place to question them."

The vampiress nodded, standing still and grabbing the edge of her desk. The maid pulled the strings of her corset tight, so tight Selene was amazed she could still breathe. Had she been human, though, a large meal would have been out of the question.

Two days had passed since the lycan horde had swarmed Ordoghaz. The remainder of the night that had followed the attack, as well as the night after it, had been dedicated to cleaning up the mess that had been left. The vampires that had fallen during the attack (which there had been a surprising amount of, given the brevity of the onslaught) had been buried with all proper honors and send-offs, while the lycan corpses had been cast into a large fire that had reeked of burning lycan flesh and hair as it consumed the bodies. The coven members chipped in, however reluctantly, to help the maids scrub dried blood from the floors and walls. Damaged chairs had been sent into the nearby hamlet for repairs, as had damaged tables; craftsmen had been summoned to repair damages done to doors and walls.

Before the coven had retired for the day, Viktor had announced a meeting-mostly for the higher-ups of the coven, including Kraven, who had returned the night before, giving no indication of where he had been or what he had been doing. Selene hadn't expected to be invited until the maid had shown up at her door with a bundle of clothing in her arms.

"There we go-done with the corset," the maid announced, reaching for the dress Viktor had sent for his protégé to wear. She helped Selene pull the dress over her head, laced up the back, and then moved on to help her comb and style her hair.

When all was said and done, she found herself decked out in a beautiful dress of samite the color of blood. The sleeves rested off her shoulders, exposing smooth alabaster skin for anyone who wanted to see it. Her hair had been left loose, small braids scattered throughout as finishing touches. The maid smiled, pleased with her handiwork.

"You look beautiful, Lady Selene," she gushed. A mischievous smile overcame her face, and she leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Jarek won't be able to resist you, milady."

She _almost_ blushed.

* * *

The rarely-used dining room had been converted to a meeting room for the night, the table cleared for everyone to sit at. By the time Selene arrived, several others were already seated at the table, including Edward and Catherine, who sat side-by-side, talking in low murmurs. Nearby, on the floor, Michael sat, playing with a few carved soldiers. When she walked in, he looked up, and instantly abandoned his toys, rushing to her on unsteady toddler legs and throwing his arms around her legs.

"See-lene!" he exclaimed. "Hi-hi, See-lene!"

"Hello, Michael," she replied, unable to stop herself as she smiled down at the little boy. She then glanced up to his parents. "Edward, Catherine, good to see you."

Edward nodded. "Well met, Selene."

His wife waved. "And you as well, Selene." She glanced down, spotting her son clinging to the vampiress's skirts; an amused giggle bubbled from her lips. "As you can tell, he was very excited to see you-that was all he talked about last night and this morning, how he was going to get to see Selene again today."

"Really? I'm flattered!" She looked down at the young boy. "I had no idea he liked me so much."

"He certainly does-especially because you saved him from that werewolf two night ago." A small smile curled Edward's lips. "You've made yourself a lifelong friend."

More vampires had filed into the dining room, taking seats along the table. She waved when she saw Jarek, who took a seat at the right of the head of the table; she had to fight to keep herself from rolling her eyes at Kraven, who sauntered in and haughtily took the seat directly across from Jarek. Tanis filtered in, taking the seat next to Kraven, laying out a blank scroll and preparing to record the meeting, presumably for posterity's sake.

"Looks as though the meeting's about to commence," the raven-haired vampiress remarked. Her keen eyes spotted an empty seat on Catherine's right. "Mind if I take that seat?"

"Of course not."

She slipped into the empty seat, and Michael retreated to his spot on the floor, happily resuming whatever adventure his toy soldiers were in the midst of. No sooner had Selene settled herself in the seat than Viktor strolled in, resplendent as always in his fine black robes. Everyone quickly got to their feet as he entered, taking their seats only when he had sat.

"Good evening, a pleasure to see all of you," he greeted cordially, but with an undertone of impatience, as though he were only greeting everyone because he didn't want to seem rude. Everyone murmured rushed greetings in return.

"I presume you all know why I've called you here tonight?"

Up and down the table, nineteen heads bobbed up and down in unison.

"Good. Then you all recognize the severity of the situation-the wolves are at our door, literally in some cases." His face twisted with a sneer of disgust. "This simply will not do. The beasts have become unusually emboldened since Lucian's death." He rested his gaze, which was presently piercing blue, on Kraven. "Why, Kraven, do you suppose this is?"

Kraven's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped nervously. "I'm not sure, milord."

His head whipped around to Jarek. "Have you any ideas, Jarek?"

"Plenty, milord. The question now is which one is the correct one."

"Revenge," Edward stated simply.

Suddenly, nineteen pairs of eyes flickered to him, surprised, as if he'd just spoken Greek. He settled back in his chair, looking for all the world as if he wanted to prop his feet on the table. "It's quite simple, really-this coven killed their leader, no? Naturally, they're probably not happy about that. So they're lashing out against the coven, leader or no leader. And, knowing how revenge can be sometimes…I'd say those lycans will not be deterred. At least not until you and the other two Elders are dead and your coven lies in shambles, Lord Viktor."

"An eye for an eye," Selene concluded quietly.

"Precisely my point."

"Interesting," Viktor mused, stroking his chin in thought. "You make a fair point, Edward-one that I should have thought of before."

"Thank you," he replied quietly.

"Now, the question is what we do about the lycans."

Silence fell over the room. It was practically a rhetorical question; the answer was obvious. The only solution to their problem was to kill all the lycans before the lycans killed them. They all knew that, and Viktor knew they knew that. The only question was…

"How do we get rid of them without the loss of all our Death Dealers?" a noble with fiery red hair, known as Lennox, questioned.

"Welcome to my nightmare," Jarek commented from the end of the table, his face suddenly weary, even though his quip earned him a few snickers. It was an arduous task to plan, and no one at the table envied Jarek's task. No doubt, trying to plan a battle strategy that would successfully decimate the werewolves without destroying the vampire population in return would require many a sleepless day for the captain.

"Has anyone ever thought of declaring a truce?"

The room was suddenly plunged into icy silence at these words; even little Michael's animated babbling in the background had stopped. Everyone turned their attention to the speaker, eyes wide, mouths agape in astonishment. Cold, seething anger filled Viktor's eyes (which we dark once more) as he glared at the speaker. He stood to his feet, menacing in his fury.

"_What_ was that?"'

"I did not stutter, Lord Viktor," Catherine replied, standing up as the Elder did. "Have you ever considered a truce with the lycans?"

"And why would I do such a thing?" he snarled.

"Well, to be perfectly honest, Lord Viktor, you'd be a fool not to." She looked up and down the table, meeting the eyes of every vampire. All of them, Selene included, stared at her with a baffled look. Only Edward seemed to understand what she was talking about; he gave her a small, reassuring nod, and with a nod in return, she gave her attention back to Viktor. "I know this may sound unlikely, but you'd benefit greatly from a treaty with the lycans."

"What could those beasts for me?" he spat.

"Well," she began, squaring her shoulders resolutely. "As vampires, you cannot go out into the sunlight, and thus, your manor is left unguarded during the daylight hours. And lycans are not the only threat-humans threaten you too, Lord Viktor, they threaten to come down upon the manor bearing torches, stakes, and all other superstitious methods of killing vampires that they believe in. But, if you forged a treaty with the lycans, your coven could band together with their den; the lycans could guard you during the daylight hours, and you could watch them during nighttime hours."

"And you expect me to entrust my life to savage, bloodthirsty beasts?"

"If I may point out, the few human slaves you employ now to assist and to guard you are just as likely to kill you in your sleep, particularly if they are aware of your nature. After all, are humans not taught to fear and hate what they do not understand? They do not understand us, Lord Viktor, and to pretend otherwise would be fallacy. As a matter of fact, I believe that trusting the lycans to guard you while you sleep would be better than trusting the humans."

"Then you are a foolish girl to believe as such."

Catherine's sapphire eyes grew hard, icy with anger. "_Pardon?_"

"You're a fool to believe that we can trust the lycans. Lucian proved that his savage breed cannot be trusted. If we give them an inch, do you know what they'll do?" He peered around the table, at all the vampires eagerly handing onto his every word, before his eyes settled back on Catherine. "They would cut you down in your bed, while you sleep. You, your husband, _and_ your child."

"But does one bad experience with a lycan instantly mark the rest of the breed so unworthy of you high standards?"

"It certainly proves that the savagery of their breed cannot be bred away. Once a beast, always a beast."

"So I take it you do not believe in second chances, Lord Viktor?" The brunette vampiress's voice was hard with suppressed anger. "There is no such thing as redemption to you, no faith in the theory that time changes all men?"

"No," he hissed back, ice-blue fire blazing in his eyes. "And that's because men do not change, Catherine. It's a hard-learned lesson for the naïve, but a lesson we all must learn eventually; a lesson that, after nine centuries of life, I believe I have learned."

She scoffed. "_Naïve?_ I'm hardly naïve, Lord Viktor. I'm no stranger to betrayal, and the pain it brings, but aren't you capable of getting over whatever wrong this lycan named Lucian did you?"

"What if I'm not?" he asked, a challenge.

"I would ask you why you can't get over whatever happened with Lucian," she replied. "For only cravens hold on to past wrongs, and, last time I had checked, Lord Viktor of Moldavia was no craven-or was there something I was not told?"

"_Enough!_" the disgruntled Elder declared, his hand slamming down onto the table with such force that chips of splintered wood went flying. "We'll have no more of this insane prattle-"

"_Insane prattle?!_" Catherine thundered indignantly from down the table. Edward stood up, resting a hand on her arm to calm her, though anger glimmered in his dark eyes.

"-We're not drawing up a treaty of any kind with those monsters, and that is final! They betrayed us once, what would keep them from betraying us again?"

"A little trust might prevent that from happening," the brunette remarked snidely.

"By the dark gods, woman, _hold your tongue!_" Viktor snapped, glaring at her. "I'll not take any insolence, not from the likes of you! We're not going along with your half-brained plan!"

A predatory hiss escaped Edward. "And I'll not have you speaking to my wife that way, Lord Viktor! At least she bothered to contribute an idea, unlike everyone else!"

"You no talk to Mummy like that!" Michael echoed as he climbed to his feet, puffing out his little chest in an attempt to look more intimidating. "That no nice!"

"Besides, is her idea really all that bad?" Edward asked, looking up and down the table, his black eyes demanding an answer. "Well, is it?"

"Of course it is!" Kraven blurted out, jumping from his seat. "It's complete and utter lunacy! Not to be rude, but your wife is utterly daft to suggest making a treaty with those dogs!"

"_Daft?!_" Catherine snarled, a strange, vermillion tinge coming to her sapphire eyes. "Well, I'd rather be daft or mad or whatever else you may think of me than a braggart and a womanizer such as yourself!"

"You've a lot of nerve talking to my wife like that!" Edward his-was it a trick of Selene's eyes, or were his nails longer and sharper than they had been before? "She's not daft-she's a visionary, more so than anyone else here! Can't you see she's offering a way to end this petty way with the lycans? You'd all be daft not to heed her words!"

"Yeah!" Michael added enthusiastically, nodding his little head and scattering tendrils of his golden hair over his face.

"No one asked you, little brat!" Kraven hollered at the toddler.

"Talk to my son like that again and just see what happens!" Catherine snarled back, her hands and the strange reddish tinge to her eyes making her look more a demon than the docile, almost-angelic creature she always seemed to be.

"_ENOUGH!_" Viktor bellowed, loud and harsh enough that Michael yelped and hurried to his mother, burying his face in her skirt. "We'll have no more of this ridiculous discussion. We're not making any kind of treaty with the lycans and that is final!"

His icy eyes landed on the couple who had been arguing back and forth with him and Kraven, as if daring them to argue again. Catherine gathered both her son and his toys, then, along with Edward, they both exited the room, leaving only silence in their wake.

Viktor resumed his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. "Jarek, step up night patrol-more Death Dealers in groups, farther boundaries of patrol-anything you can think to make better, make it better."

"I will, my lord," he promised with a firm nod.

"Good. Meeting adjourned."

* * *

_**A/N:** Well, kiddies, that's all for now! I'll see you next time!_

_And in case any of you are wondering, the reason for the song at the beginning of the chapter...well, I couldn't help but think of Viktor when I was listening to this song, especially in the case of this chapter, because, as we can see, he dwells on the past. A lot._


	8. The Swords and the Stories

_**A/N: **Okay, so it's been a while...I didn't mean to keep you guys waiting so long, but as you all know, while December=Winter Break, December also=PROJECTS. Out the bloody yin-yang, I tell you! Sheesh!_

_Anyways...so, I want to thank SpeedDemon315, keili77, Furionknight, and me12243 for their reviews! _

_Disclaimer: Yada yada yada, don't own Underworld or any of its characters...

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_

"The signal's fading fast and the ink is running out

The words look good in pen but sound better from my mouth

Please hold me tightly, I don't care if I can breathe tonight

Forget these lungs, their jealousy

I'm burning out but I can't leave this all behind

(Leave this all behind)

Leave this all behind

Forget these lungs, their jealousy

I'm burning out but I can't leave this all behind."

-"Where Can I Stab Myself in the Ears?" by Hawthorne Heights

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**Chapter Eight: The Swords and the Stories**

Selene perched upon the table, her feet dangling a few inches above the ground, swinging idly. She was waiting for Jarek to come for her daily lesson in swordplay, but a half-hour had passed since the time her lessons normally began, and he had not yet shown up.

Jarek was _never_ late.

She drummed her fingers against the table, her mind racing with reasons for her mentor's tardiness. There was the possibility he was still asleep; he, along with all the other Death Dealers, had been patrolling longer hours, and riding further, and they always returned exhausted. He could have been caught up in the middle of trying to strategize a plan of attack against the lycans and simply lost track of the time. Or-for all she knew-he might have been speaking with Viktor about something and thought it rude to excuse himself to tutor the young vampiress in swords.

The door creaked open, and her heart inexplicably leapt, as she realized Jarek had finally come to teach her. The person who had opened the door did not come all the way in, though; they remained hidden behind the vast oak door, speaking to someone in the hall.

"…Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with Selene and I'm already late."

To her surprise, it was not the captain of the Death Dealers who spoke, but Catherine. She couldn't help but wonder what appointment the visiting vampiress could possibly have with her.

"We could discuss it over dinner," another voice, horribly familiar, suggested. "Or, perhaps afterwards, in my chambers."

"I dine with my husband," she replied, ice in her tone. "And I'm afraid I follow a very strict schedule after dinner so I can have Michael in bed before sun-up."

"Can't your husband watch the boy for a night?" Kraven replied, a bit of a whine in his voice.

"I'm afraid not-Michael refuses to sleep if I'm not there. Now, I really haven't the time to discuss the matter further; as I said already, I'm due to meet Selene and I'm running late."

"Oh, but we haven't finished our conversation." Kraven's tone turned low, ominous, and Selene was suddenly glad she couldn't see what was going on.

Catherine gave a cry of indignation. "Get your hands off me!"

There came brief sounds of struggle, a dull thud, and a yelp of pain from Kraven. A few seconds later, in a flurry of footsteps, Catherine stormed through the door, looking highly affronted. She wheeled around, glaring out the door while seizing it with one hand, ready to shut it.

"I don't wish to discuss the matter further, Kraven. Now, if you'll excuse me, this is a _private_ appointment."

She slammed the door shut, still seething. Selene didn't dare speak, for fear of invoking her wrath.

"The nerve of that bastard!" Catherine snarled.

"What did he do?"

"He kept harassing me, asking me again and again why I felt we should try to end this war. I told him that my reasons are my own, so he proposed we discuss those reasons in private. I turned him down, told him I was later for my appointment with you, and he grabbed me around my waist!"

"That certainly was rude," the black-haired vampiress replied, understanding how she felt, having been the unwanted object of Kraven's lust for several months now.

"You're telling me," she huffed, combing her fingers through her hair before producing a black ribbon and binding her burnet tresses in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. It was only as she did this that Selene realized she was not wearing a dress, as she had been since she and her husband had arrived. Instead, she wore a corset of black leather over a loose white blouse, a pair of black breeches, and black boots that laced up almost to her knees.

"What manner of appointment are you supposed to have with me?"

"Well, seeing as Jarek and the other Death Dealers have had to step up night patrols, he found himself unavailable to tutor you in swordplay. He asked me to fill in for him, both tonight and possibly in the future."

"Are you any good?" Selene asked. Catherine's only response was to smirk, before reaching down and grabbing the two shinai that lay at her feet. She tossed one to her new student, who caught it before it could clatter to the ground.

"Let's find out, shall we?" She took up a day guard stance, left foot forward, with the shinai back over her right shoulder. Selene copied her pose, her body tensing in anticipation of a fight.

The brunette swung the shinai forward, cutting at her student's head. Selene quickly blocked the incoming blow, but the petite, shinai-wielding vampiress was not deterred; she slid the bamboo blade down the length of Selene's blade, then brought it back around, making another cut at her head. The raven-haired vampiress ducked, sweeping at Catherine's feet, but the clever woman merely stepped back, cutting at Selene's head in return, too fast for her to block. Catherine gently tapped the blade against Selene's head.

"And that's why you never go for the feet," she advised, giving a triumphant smile, even though she was panting a bit and seemed a little winded. "Always aim for the head."

"Duly noted," Selene responded, nodding resolutely. "Shall we try it again with the iron practice swords?"

"A moment, please." Catherine held up a hand. "Good Lord, I've been getting so worn out so fast for the past month or so. I don't know why, either-I hope it's not serious, though, or permanent." A small laugh escaped her. "After all, I have to keep up with Michael, and he's quite the vivacious little thing."

"That he is. He's a precious child, Catherine. You and Edward should be proud."

"We are, very much so." She took a seat, perched on the table Selene had been sitting on earlier, beckoning said woman to join her. "I can still remember the day he was born-it was an exhausting day, but seeing Michael for the first time, holding him in my arms, it was all worth it. There's no other feeling in the world that can compare to it, Selene."

"How long ago was this?"

"Almost three years-they grow up so fast, too."

She nodded, before letting a momentary pause take over. After a moment, she finally asked something that she had been curious about for a few days now. "If I may ask, how did you meet Edward?"

She sighed, a reminiscent smile coming to her face as she laid the shinai on the table next to her. "I haven't thought about it in ages, to be completely honest. But it certainly is a fascinating tale. It all started seventy-five years ago…as you may or may not be aware, the Van Helsing family is known for producing a rather prestigious line of vampire and lycan slayers. I was a part of that family, in training to carry out my family's noble tradition. Edward, meanwhile, was a lord of a vast estate just outside of Bucharest, Romania-my home country.

"I was about twenty-six when I first met him. I'd accompanied a family who'd gone to visit him-this family, they were all vassals of his, having bought some of his land. And they were paying him with a betrothal to their only daughter. The girl was, to put it nicely, a brat, but Edward merely accepted his betrothal to her as payment and never made any fuss about it. I'd gone with them under the guise of a maid; there were supposedly a few rather nasty lycans under the service of the lord that I was told to keep an eye on. And that was the first time I saw him…"

* * *

"_I don't know if you've experienced the same problem, Lord Edward, but I've noticed some of my servants have been getting most…rebellious," the gray-haired man commented, lifting his goblet and taking a deep draught of the wine inside._

"_Rebellious?" Edward inquired, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that, Demyan?"_

"_You know-rebellious. Unwilling to take orders that they are given. Talking insolently. The like." The man called Demyan drained his goblet. "Why, just yesterday, a maid gave my dear Camelia here cheek whilst dressing her for the day. She came to me utterly in tears!"_

_Camelia nodded, sniffling for added effect and pretending to dab a tear from the corner of her pale blue eyes. "Twas terrible, milord. The insolent wench told me that I had no hopes for marriage, especially with a man such as yourself, because I'm a brat!"_

Truerwords have never been spoken_, Cătălina thought to herself, though she held her tongue wisely. No use in inciting her master's temper; that would only make for an unpleasant night for herself._

"_How…terrible," Edward replied, trying not to look or sound as bored as he felt. "I do hope you did not let her harsh words go without reproach."_

"_Of course not-had her tongue removed. That'll teach her to speak ill of her superiors." Demyan lifted his goblet to his lips, but found, to his dissatisfaction, that it was empty. Lowering it slowly, he turned his pale glare to Cătălina, who squirmed slightly._

"_Chit, why is my goblet empty?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, clearly displeased._

"_Because you drank all your wine," she replied warily. _

"_And why haven't you refilled it?"_

"_Well…"_

"_Get your lazy arse over here and refill it, dumb broad!" he growled. Shoving down her indignant feelings about the way he treated her-of course, by now, she was accustomed to this, and it didn't incite her as it used to-she trotted over to him obediently and refilled his goblet, resisting the urge to dump the contents of the pitcher of wine over his head._

"_So hard to find good help these days, I tell you," Demyan stated as she refilled his goblet. "They're either lazy, stupid, or both." He turned his attention back to Cătălina, glaring once more. "Now what are you supposed to do?"_

_She looked to Edward. "Would you like some more wine, milord?"_

_Edward's dark eyes flickered down to his glass. "That would be appreciated, yes."_

_She hurried over, quickly refilling his goblet as well. Just as she tilted the pitcher back up and moved to leave, Edward looked up, his dark eyes-too dark for a human's, eyes like tunnels without a speck of warmth-meeting her sapphire ones. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was caught off-guard-he was surprisingly handsome, his skin smooth and pale, his features like that of an angel-but with eyes like a demon, dark and seemingly unfeeling. _

_And yet, she swore she saw something in his eyes-some flicker of something. Something that hadn't been there before._

"_I don't think I've seen you amongst Demyan's usual attendants before," he started, slowly, his voice low. "What's your name?"_

"_Her? She's no one, just a new maid," Demyan answered for her. "She came at a good price, too-next time you're in need of a good maid, look for the Anghelescu family-they sell their maids for a good price-"_

"_I didn't ask you," Edward hissed, shutting the blathering man up instantly. "I asked her."_

"_My name is Cătălina, milord," she replied, giving a small, respectful curtsy. "Just Cătălina."_

"_Well, Cătălina…thank you for the wine."

* * *

_

"Cătălina?"

"It's Romanian for Catherine," the brunette vampiress replied. "I changed my name after spending some years in England with Edward, but that wasn't until after we married."

"So what happened?"

"He came to me later that evening, when I was in the maids' chamber, and requested to meet with me, so we could talk. All the other girls promised they wouldn't tell Demyan, and Edward and I started meeting in secret, talking until we could see the sun on the horizon." She gave a small grin. "It didn't take me long to realize that the betrothal between Edward and Camelia was pretty much over."

"You don't say."

"He told me he never liked the wretch anyways-she was far too whiny for her own good, and dumber than a sack of manure to boot. He only agreed to marry her because Demyan was too cheap to offer him money for his land."

"So what happened?"

"Edward kept pushing and pushing the wedding back, trying to call it off entirely. In the meantime, we would meet together all the time-at least twice a week, if not more. We'd talk about what we would do once he was free of the betrothal, if he could get free-he'd buy me off of Demyan, then we would run away together, get married elsewhere, explore Europe in all its beauty. We'd tell each other things we wouldn't even tell our closest friends-which, of course, is how I ended up finding out he was a vampire. But, under it all, we couldn't help but worry what would happen if we were caught-Edward worried that I would be put to death for 'dallying' with him, and I was worried that Demyan would somehow uncover that he was a vampire and have him put to death."

"Were you ever caught?"

She shook her head. "Miraculously, no-we continued to see each other without once getting caught. And then, after almost a year of seeing each other, Camelia took ill and died, thus releasing him from his betrothal. I ran off after the funeral-Demyan never noticed-and Edward and I had a quick, private wedding in England."

"Why quick and private?"

She gave a rueful sort of grin. "I was four months pregnant with Edward's child."

"Wait-you were pregnant with Michael seventy-five years ago?" Selene asked, baffled.

Catherine shook her head. "God, no. We tried to have another child before Michael-and it's because of that child that I'm a vampire." She paused, and, at Selene's silence, she continued her tale. "No matter what I insisted to Edward, my health went downhill during that pregnancy, and we both knew it. It was because of whom we were-him, a vampire, me, a human, our child…both. I didn't drink blood, which the baby needed, so it nourished itself from my blood, instead. Mind you, all babies do that. But not nearly in the amount that this child did to me."

"So what happened?"

"Well, my time came, and I gave birth," she started. "But it was a bloody catastrophe. There was no midwife, for starters-it was just Edward and I, neither of us knowing what we were doing. I tried and tried as hard as I could to just keep going, but"-She shrugged, shaking her head slightly.-"I wasn't going to make it, and I knew it. I was bleeding all over the place, my heart was slowing down-I could feel it-and I just couldn't keep pushing. I finally told Edward to just try to save the baby, because I knew I wasn't going to survive."

"But he saved _you_," Selene replied, baffled.

"The baby was beyond helping. Edward finally helped me deliver the baby, but he was stillborn. So, instead, Edward turned me, as I was on the brink of death. We left England, travelled around a little, after almost seventy-five years decided it was time to try again for a baby, and then, about three years ago, while we were in Prussia, Michael was born."

"That's quite a story, Catherine," Selene replied, shaking her head in slight disbelief.

"What can I say? That's my life." She stretched, before reaching for the blunt-edged practice swords. "Well, now that you've heard my entire life's story, ready to practice?"

She nodded, taking one of the swords as they moved back into their defensive day-guard positions. At Catherine's nod, they sprang into action, their moves as fluid and graceful as any dancer's moves.

"May I ask you a question, Catherine?" Selene inquired as she fended off a blow by blocking the sword with her own.

"Go right ahead."

"Why a peace treaty with the lycans? I mean, I understand wanting the war to end-who doesn't? But why a peace treaty?"

The brunette vampiress sighed, bringing her sword around in an attempt to dodge Selene's block. "I had a feeling you would inquire about that."

"Will you tell me why?"

"Why not?" She shrugged, before retreating back and to her left. Selene advanced on her. "Call me mad, Selene, but I really don't see why or what it is that makes the lycans so inferior to the vampires-or what it is that prevents you from making some kind of treaty or alliance with them. I mean, surely they understand you to some extent, being inhuman, as you are. It almost seems foolish not to have a treaty with them."

"Well, I don't pretend to be an expert on the relationship between lycans and vampires, because I'm not," Selene stated, cutting towards the brunette's neck, a move she parried expertly. "But I do know one thing: The lycans cannot be trusted. Lucian proved that a long time ago."

"Wait, who is this Lucian I keep hearing about?" she asked, blocking another cut from the back with the back of her hand, lunging at her opponent. "What did he do to make everyone hate him so?" Her blade gently prodded Selene's solar plexus; a slight smile came to her face. "I win."

"So you do." They both ceased their fight, bowing to each other. Once they did so, Selene tossed the practice blade to Catherine, who caught it with her usual fluid grace, placing it on the table.

"Will you tell me about Lucian?"

"I'll tell you what I know." She hoisted herself onto the table, motioning for Catherine to do the same. "You might want to sit down-it's a long story."

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**_A/N:_** _Next chapter...it's all about Lucian! :D Oh, do I love that werewolf!_


	9. Speak of the Wolf

_**A/N:** Hello, all! Another chapter of Dark Ripples in Blood, coming your way! Hope you're ready for it!  
_

_Thanks to **SpeedDemon315** and **keili77** for their reviews!_

_**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Selene or any of the Underworld characters. Still borrowing Edward. Still own Catherine.

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_

"He wears his heart safety-pinned to his backpack

His backpack is all that he knows

Shot down by strangers whose glances can cripple

The heart, and devour the soul

All alone, he turns to stone

While holding his breath half to death

Terrified of what's inside to

Save his life

He crawls like a worm from a bird

Crawls like a worm from a bird."

-"_The Bird and the Worm_" by The Used

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**Chapter Nine: Speak of the Wolf**

"Now, I'm not an expert on Lucian, nor do I pretend to be. I only know what Viktor has told me. But he was around in the time of Lucian's treachery-he was directly involved, matter of fact. I trust that what he has to say is nothing but the absolute truth.

"Lucian was born centuries ago, in Castle Corvinus-ironically enough, I do believe that castle was located in your home country, Catherine. He was born during one of Viktor's reigns, but it's nearly impossible to determine which reign he was born during-nine centuries have passed, and seven of those centuries involved a joint rule of all three Elders. The Elders only really started The Chain in 1202, after they had captured William-before that, they all rather ruled cooperatively, with Viktor at the forefront, having been a general in his mortal life. But I'm digressing. All people really know is that there's a bit of mystery surrounding his birth-no one knows who his father was, but something about his father, or possibly even about his mother, made it possible for him to be whelped as a human, not as a werewolf. That's part of his claim to fame, as it were-the fact that he's the first lycan-half werewolf, but also half man.

"Despite the fact that he loathed William's despicable breed, Viktor took Lucian in, almost as his own son, and raised him. He was the only parent Lucian knew-his mother died when he was an infant, and his father's identity died with his mother."

"So Lucian is the originator of the race we know as the lycans?" Catherine inquired, her pale face serious as she absorbed Selene's words.

"Correct."

"And how did he create a new race?" The brunette's eyes burned with curiosity. "Did he bite them, or were they created through"-She paused.-"Well, procreation?"

"The former. Viktor had Lucian infect captives, or prisoners of war. Those who survived the bite became lycans."

"All right, so the reason everyone knows Lucian's name is because he's the father of a new sub-species of lycans." Catherine nodded once, firmly. "Got it. But why does everyone hate him? Is it because he created the new sub-species of lycan?"

Selene shook her head. "No, that's not it."

"Then why?"

"I'll tell you: It wasn't too long ago that all this transpired. It was perhaps ten years ago; Lucian had fallen in love with Sonja, Viktor's daughter. And she loved him back, even though he was a lycan and she was a vampire. Their relationship was completely against the Covenant of the Blood-the species cannot comingle bloodlines, at all. This covenant had been laid down almost a thousand years ago, by the Elders-the Covenant was law, and that meant their relationship was against the law."

"Was Viktor aware of their relationship?"

"He was. And although it was completely taboo, he allowed it. Not only did he see how much Sonja loved and trusted Lucian, but he trusted the lycan blacksmith, as well. So, despite the fact that it broke the Covenant, he permitted them to carry on their relationship. And for a while, all was good…"

"What happened?"

"He betrayed her."

Astonishment overtook the brunette's features. "_What?_"

Selene nodded solemnly. "Lucian betrayed Sonja-she trusted him, and what did that bastard do? He snatched her from her bed, dragged her to the dungeons, had her release the rest of his savage, disgusting brethren, and then ran off into the night with her, using her as leverage to keep Viktor and his Death Dealers at bay."

"What become of Sonja?"

"By the time Viktor got to her, she'd been beaten, raped, and left in the sun to die."

Catherine's face paled noticeably; a hand went to her mouth in shock. "_What?_ That's-that's terrible!" Her brow then furrowed. "And it doesn't make sense-if he loved Sonja so, why would he kill her?"

Selene shrugged, shaking her head. "I don't know-I can't fathom the inner workings of Lucian's mind, nor do I particularly care to. But, while Viktor ventured out to find his daughter, Lucian took an army to Castle Corvinus and destroyed almost all of the old coven-left in completely and utterly in ruins. The only people who survived were Viktor and his contingent of Death Dealers, Lord Markus, Lady Amelia, and Andreas Tanis, our historian-he was the one sitting on Kraven's left. But everyone else, including the first Council, perished. This coven was essentially built from scratch."

"So with the exception of a few vampires, everyone else in this coven is less than ten years old in immortal terms?"

The black-haired vampiress nodded. "Pretty much."

"What about Kraven?"

"Him…I'm not sure. I think he may have been one of the few Death Dealers that survived, but he had almost no rank, so no one would remember him."

"All right." She paused. "So that's why everyone hates Lucian and this kind-they think they're not to be trusted?"

"Yes."

"What about you, Selene?" she inquired, cocking her head to one side like a bird. "Why do you hate them? Not just Lucian, but all of them in general?"

"Well, I hate Lucian for causing Lord Viktor so much, by slaughtering his daughter. He won't even speak of her-I've heard he went as far as to have Tanis hide all records bearing traces of her, so as to ease the pain of her brutal, untimely end."

"But what about the rest of the lycans?"

She glanced away, unwonted images of her butchered family, of her mother's torn throat, of Cecilia's willowy frame lying spread-eagle in a puddle of her own vital lifeblood, of that damning, precious liquid staining the pristine white nightgowns of Eva and Lydia, of the look of horror frozen upon her father's face, coming to her mind. After a moment of her silence, she felt a hand gently rest upon her shoulder.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Catherine murmured. "I just thought that talking might help."

Catherine's gentle, motherly manner reminded her so much of her own dearly departed mother that her resolve crumbled, and she found herself spilling the entire story.

"It wasn't too long ago that this happened-about three, maybe four months ago," she began. "All of us were home-Father, Mother, Cecilia, my sister, and her daughters, Eva and Lydia. Cecilia and I had put the girls to bed, and then gone to bed ourselves. Mother was downstairs sewing, and Father had gone out to check on the horses. He hadn't come back by the time I'd dozed off-I was getting worried.

"I awoke to screams-it was Mother and Cecilia. They were screaming forever, it seemed, and then, they just…they just stopped. I got out of bed, with every intention of running to Eva and Lydia's room, but"-She shuddered visibly, the memory still very fresh in her mind.-"The lycans, they beat me, they butchered those little girls like animals.

"There was only one person I could think might still be alive-Father. I left the house, ran for the barn through the storm that was raging outside. But I was too late again, Catherine. Father was…he was already gone. The lycans had killed everyone else, and I was next on the list."

"How did you make it out?" Catherine asked, her voice soft, gentle.

"Viktor. He came and drove them off, all in order to save me. And afterwards, he gave me a choice-I could remain human, unable to stand against the beasts that ruined my life. Or he could give me the strength to fight back."

"He made you into a vampire."

"And I haven't looked back on that decision since. I like it here, Catherine. I'm starting to feel like I belong."

Just then, the chiming of bells filled the room, and the halls beyond, signaling that dawn was merely an hour away. Selene slid off the table, knowing that Viktor always liked her to report back to him roughly about an hour before dawn.

"I'm terribly sorry-it's not that I didn't enjoy talking with you, but Viktor always has me report my progress back to him before dawn," she informed the brunette with an apologetic smile. "Thank you so much, Catherine-you're a wonderful teacher, you know that, right?"

"Mhm," she murmured, her brow furrowing.

"Something wrong?"

"Just thinking about something. Curious about something, you know?"

"Well, be careful," Selene cautioned, her smile still a bit hesitant. "You know how the old adage goes-curiosity killed the cat."

_Yes, curiosity killed the cat,_ Catherine inwardly said, watching as Selene left the room to meet with her sire. _But satisfaction brought it back.

* * *

_

_**A/N:** Before you all ask, I'm well aware this is not how it happened. I've seen Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. Hell, I have the novelization of the movie. But do you really think Viktor would go spouting the fact that Lucian went batshit because he (Viktor, that is) killed Sonja?_

_I know he's not brilliant, but he's not _that_ stupid._

_Thus, he created an alternate version of events to feed to everyone else. Just so his nasty little secret stayed safe. Although, Kraven knows he killed Sonja...I'm not sure if he found out on his own, or if he was actually there. RotL implied that no one was left alive besides Tanis and the three Elders..._

_But that's a mystery for another time! Adios, amigos!  
_


	10. Kraven's Little Trinket

_**A/N: **Ah, well met, my dear readers! I've made it to chapter ten of Dark Ripples in Blood, which means I am, approximately, one-third of the way through the story. And it only took me almost ten months. Meaning, if I continue this astounding (insert sarcastic tone here) rate, I should be done sometime in my sophomore year of college. _

_I hope it doesn't really take that long XD  
_

_So, before we start, thanks to Furionknight, SpeedDemon315, and keili77 for their reviews! _

_**Disclaimer:** Yeah. Still don't own the Underworld characters. Seeing as I'm practically broke, the chances of me buying the rights to them are about a trillion to one. Sigh.

* * *

_

"The truth is out there

Somewhere between two fairy tales

Caught somewhere deep between someone's truth and a lie

Another really rainy morning, it's a perfect day...

I'm too tired to by hypnotized now

It's all too real for me anyway

Wake up, I only want to wake up

Don't want to fall asleep but

I'm already dreaming

I feel my skin is peeling off

What I've been concealing?

Something underneath my crawling skin..."

-From _"The Truth is Out There"_ by Sonata Arctica

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Kraven's Little Trinket**

By far, the library of Ordoghaz was the most impressive library Catherine had ever seen. The door was rather tucked away, hidden in a small alcove somewhere on the first floor, but the door led into a vast library, sporting three walls of floor-to-ceiling bookcases, twelve large, free-standing bookshelves, lined up into two neat rows like vast, wooden soldiers, and several rather comfortable chairs scattered throughout the room. On the fourth wall was a massive fireplace, set into an intricate marble hearth. Images of battles gone by had been expertly carved into the polished alabaster stone; four crimson pennants flanked the fireplace, each bearing intricate Celtic runes similar to the ones decorating the crypt. Her azure eyes stared long and hard at them, taking in the details of the Celtic knots, the elaborate letters set within the middle.

_V for Viktor._

_M for Markus._

_A for Amelia._

_C for…Corvinus? Alexander Corvinus, perhaps? Well, good to see they respect the originator of immortality._

Shaking her head to pull herself from her reverie, she let a low whistle escape her at the rich setting around her. "Now _this_ is what I need at home."

All day, she'd tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep despite being tucked away in the serenity and comfort of Edward's arms. What had occupied her mind was Selene's story-particularly the part where Lucian had tortured, raped, and killed Sonja. It seemed so wrong, so outrageous-she hadn't known Lucian, had no idea of his character aside from Selene's story, which had been rather lacking in description of Lucian's character, but for some reason, he just didn't seem as though he would pretend to love a woman-particularly the daughter of the man who, by Selene's account, had been the only father figure he'd ever known-just for the point and purpose of killing her. It had seemed a very sorry way to repay Viktor for sparing his life, and even allowing him and Sonja to break the Covenant.

_So why kill her?_

Catherine felt as though the story she was hearing had been altered at some point of time, to conceal some dark, unmentionable secret that wasn't made for the common vampires to hear. And thus, as soon as the sun went down, she'd thrown on the clothes she'd worn to train Selene the previous day, grabbed a pair of slippers made of worn black leather, kissed Edward and Michael with a promise to be back later, and had taken off for her destination.

The library.

Small labels had been affixed to the shelves, displaying the contents of the aisles. She bypassed a shelf on botany, and another on medical texts. A large section devoted to fiction caught her eye, and she made a note to come back to that section later on. Finally, towards the very back of the library, near the door she'd come in, there was an entire aisle devoted to historical texts, which she quickly ducked into, beginning to peruse the books that lined the shelves.

Most of the ones she found were about mortal events, some of which she had no doubt in mind some of the vampires in the coven remembered, possibly even witnessed or participated in. She found several volumes on Charlemagne's reign, a good deal of books on the conquests of Alexander the Great, some books on Ancient Greek history on the top shelf, and one whole section devoted to assorted pharaohs of Egypt.

And, in the middle of it all, was a rather large, thick Bible. Catherine tried-and failed miserably-to stifle a good laugh at that. _The irony of it all,_ she realized silently. _In a house full of beings that can live forever, and have no real concerns about the destination of their immortal souls, a Bible can be found._

But none of that was what she needed. It was all mortal history-what she needed was _immortal_ history, something that would have had to be written by a vampire itself-such as that small, somewhat smug vampire she'd spotted taking notes at the meeting where she and Viktor had shouted at each other. She could remember seeing him on the night she and Edward had arrived at the manor, and with a scroll and a quill, too; he had to be some kind of scribe, or historian. Keeping this in mind, Catherine began to search more intently for vampiric history, now taking into account the scrolls she'd found scattered across the shelves as well as the thick books. She even went as far as to climb onto shelves to scour the very tops for more helpful pieces. An hour's hard searching, however, only yielded the disappointing harvest of a few slender, crudely-bound books and some scrolls that looked important, but nothing that really seemed to be a major source of information about the coven's rather secretive history.

Thoroughly disappointed at the pathetic results of her search, she gathered the books and scrolls and started for a chair by the fireplace. As she walked, the toe of one of her slippers caught on an uneven flagstone, and before she could stop herself, she hit the ground, face down, her books and scrolls scattering over the floor. A sharp stab of pain tore through her torso, which had been unusually tender the past few days; gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and sucked a deep, hissing breath through her teeth to stave off the surprisingly searing pain.

After a moment, it faded, and she cautiously pushed herself up on all fours, then leaned back so she was kneeling on the floor. Before her, her books and scrolls had been scattered well into the aisle of the library. Gently massaging her still-smarting abdomen, she glanced behind her, finding she had tripped over an unevenly-laid flagstone, the only imperfection in the otherwise-flawless floor.

"Of course," she grumbled, moving to gather the reading materials that had been flung. "The _one_ uneven flagstone in the _whole_ house, and _I_ find it and proceed to trip _right_ over it."

Shaking her head, she started picking up the materials she had dropped. As her hand closed over one scroll, her eyes fell upon a large book bound in black leather, tucked away on the bottom shelf. Curiosity overwhelming her, she put down the books she'd gathered, before pulling the book from the shelf. Two clasps sealed it, while golden letters spelling out _The History of Immortal War _had been painted across the cover.

"And _now_, we're on to something," she mumbled, undoing the clasps holding the book closed and opening the cover, precariously balancing the book in her lap. The book appeared to be relatively new; the pages had not yet yellowed with age, and the ink was still strong, bold, and black.

Abandoning all her other books and scrolls, Catherine settled onto the floor, resting her back against the bookcase. Sapphire eyes scanned the pages with curiosity, taking in everything, noticing that some passages had been obscured by thick, bold strokes of ink; entire paragraphs had been concealed under a layer of ink, as though an inkwell had fallen over on that particular part of the page.

_I'm _terribly_ sure,_ Catherine thought, her internal musings quite snarky.

Flipping through more pages, finding more words hidden by ink, or ruined by water that must have been carefully dripped onto the pages, didn't help the brunette's suspicions. There was even a full section that had been torn out, the section that would have discussed Sonja's death.

Finally, towards the back of the book, she found him: Lucian. A full page had been dedicated to an illustration of him, but his face was missing, torn out judging by the edges of the hole and how they were frayed.

Her brow furrowed, and she turned the page, only to find she was at the last page. Directly behind that was the back cover-with a rather morbid trinket attached.

It was a small scrap of skin, human by the looks of it. It had been branded like cow's hide, an intricate V seared into the piece of flesh. Curious, she snatched it from the back of the book, bringing it closer to her face to study the details better.

_V for Viktor._

And the smell-the slight scent that clung to the skin, one that crept into her nose and set off her olfactory senses with the alarm of familiarity.

She'd smelled the scent before. Recently.

Though Lucian had supposedly been dead for several months now, and despite the fact that she'd never met him before, she recognized the scent gently wafting off the flesh. She'd smelled it on the night the lycans invaded Ordoghaz, when the werewolf who had called the rest of them off had come storming in. And what's more, she'd smelled it on Kraven's clothes when he'd confronted her the night before.

"Curious." Her eyes narrowed, first on the scrap of skin, then on the book she'd pulled it from. "_Very_ curious. I think it's time I have a little chat with the great lycan-slayer."

* * *

Kraven reclined in the armchair before the fire, smirking, a crystal goblet of blood in his hand. He was thinking back to the previous night, when he'd attempted to catch Catherine's attention as she'd been heading to whatever she'd been going to do. It was true, he hadn't been successful-but he wouldn't deny, she certainly was a feisty little thing.

_And quite a lovely little lady when incited, with her cheeks so red and her eyes on fire._

Someone knocked insistently at the door, and, slightly irked, he got up from his chair, making long-legged strides towards his door, hoping whoever was on the other side would be quick with their business and leave him to his solitude afterwards.

Much to his surprise (and quiet delight) it was Catherine who stood outside his spacious quarters, azure eyes riveted on his, a small scrap of something clutched in her pale fist. Easing a confident grin onto his face, he leaned against the doorframe.

"Well, good evening, Catherine," he greeted. "And to what do I owe the honor?"

"I need to talk to you," she replied. "I've found that I have some questions."

"Questions? Well, in that case, please, come in." He opened the door wider, to admit Catherine into the room. She slipped in, but stopped him as he moved to shut the door.

"Open," she instructed, then, as an afterthought, added, "please."

"All right." A hint of disappointment on his face, Kraven left the door open, guiding her to a richly upholstered chair. She took a seat, and he took one across from her. "So, you have questions?"

"Yes." She produced the branded scrap of flesh. "This is Lucian's right? This skin came from him?"

"Yes," Kraven answered, seeming a bit dumbfounded, eyeing the trinket in her hands.

"And you brought it back as evidence of his demise, correct?"

He nodded, unsure of where she was going with her questioning. "I did."

"But why only bring back a scrap of skin?" she inquired, fixing him with a piercing gaze that made him want to squirm. "A scrap of skin does not prove his demise, particularly when the rest of your unit perished, leaving you with no witnesses. For all any of us know you could have cut the skin from Lucian's arm but left him alive."

Kraven barely resisted the urge to swallow, to break eye contact, to do anything that might have incriminated him as doing exactly what Catherine had suggested. _By the Elders, she's clever! Too clever…_

"Now, if you had brought back his _head_, or his _heart_, then the proof would have been absolutely solid-well, maybe not so much so with his heart, as you could have gotten any old heart, but with his head, most certainly. After all, it is quite hard for one to live without their head, and I doubt Lucian had more than one, or the ability to regenerate his head. But a scrap of skin proves next to nothing."

"Lucian _is_ dead," he insisted curtly.

"Of course, of course," she murmured, though her expression belied her words. She folded her hands in her lap, never breaking her gaze on the raven-haired vampire. "Tell me about Sonja."

A nonplussed expression came to his face. "What about her?"

"How did she die?"

"Lucian killed her," he replied swiftly.

"But _why?_" He eyes burned with questioning. "From the story I heard, Lucian loved Sonja very much, and she loved him. If this was so, why would he kill her?"

"I don't know. I suppose you just can't trust a lycan," Kraven replied waspishly, starting to become weary of her questions-and a bit unnerved by them, as well. "Now, I have some things I need to do, and I really need to do them before sunrise, so I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

He managed to get the petite vampiress out of her chair and to the door, but then, she turned back around to face him.

"I just have one last question." Her tone was resolute; she clearly would not leave until she got an answer. "How did you kill Lucian?"

"I stabbed him in the stomach-all the bloody way through," he growled.

She nodded. "That's all I needed to know. Good evening, Kraven."

With a scowl, he closed the door in her face. She stared at the door for a long moment, then raised a curious brow.

"He seems rather nervous," she murmured to the unyielding wood, or perhaps just to herself. "Like he's hiding something." A thought came to her, making a small smile, one that just barely flashed her fangs, spread over her face. "I think I need to make a visit to Mr. Tanis."

* * *

_**A/N:** Dum dum dummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! What will Catherine discover in Tanis's...um, I don't know how to describe where he lives. A room? A part of the building? A library? I have no idea..._

_Oh, you thought I was going to tell you now? What am I, stupid? No way, Jose! You have to come back if you want to find out what happens next!_


	11. An Inquiry on History

**_A/N: _**_Sheesh, it sure has been a while. I really need to update these things more often. _

_Sorry about the wait. Part of it was that I couldn't think of a damn song to go with this chapter. FINALLY, one came to me this morning while I was shuffling about in a tired haze, fetching breakfast for one of the two boys I babysit (but that's an entirely different story). So, without any further ado, I'd like to thank **SpeedDemon315, keili77, me12243, **and **Furionknight** for their reviews, and hopefully, their patience._

_**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Underworld. Pity, because the revenue brought in for a series like that by the fan following would be more than enough for my four years of tuition.

* * *

_

"Give me strength to face the truth

The doubt within my soul

No longer I can justify the bloodshed in his name

Is it a sin to seek the truth?

The truth beneath the rose?

Pray with me so I will find the gate to Heaven's door

I believe it would justify the means

It had a hold over me

Blinded to see the cruelty of the beast

Here is the darkest side of me

(Forgive me my sins)

The veil of my dreams deceived all I have seen

Forgive me for what I have been

Forgive me my sins."

-"_The Truth Beneath the Rose_" by Within Temptation

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: An Inquiry on History**

Tanis lifted the quill from the inkwell and paused, staring down at the blank parchment, excess ink dripping back into the intricate pot that held it. As always, he was struck with that moment of indecision, of uncertainty-and, as always, it struck in the form of _how do I begin recording this event?_

For tonight, Viktor had charged him with scribing the events of the meeting two nights ago. He intended to do as such-and, having been gifted with an exceptionally good memory and quick note-taking skills, almost every detail of the event was either ingrained in his mind or written down on a spare piece of parchment. His question was how to start it in the seemingly unbiased, yet slightly biased towards the side of whoever had some kind of leverage over him that was almost expected of him.

He murmured under his breath, testing out a few different phrases, before finally settling on one that sounded suitable. Dipping his quill into the ink again, and letting the excess drip off, he put pen to parchment and began to write out the beginning of yet another story that would add to the stories chronicling the long, illustrious history of vampires:

_On a pleasant spring evening, the great Lord Viktor, reigning Elder of the coven for this century, called a meeting of some of his chief council, top Death Dealers, including their captain, and two foreign dignitaries; the subject matter of this meeting, however, would serve to spark conflict between the noble Elder and one of his foreign guests._

"Foreign dignitaries? Sounds as though Edward and I have been promoted."

Tanis nearly jumped out of his skin as a woman's voice, steeped in an accent that was a blurred mix of British and Romanian, murmured this phrase into his ear. Turning, he saw Catherine standing behind him, eyeing his writings critically.

He quickly scrambled to his feet, moving in the attempts to cover his writings, a strange mixture of curiosity, fear, and anger stirring up deep in him. While it may have been rue she was only in the antechamber of his vast quarters, she had made it in without alerting him, which unnerved him-but also frustrated him. Tanis had never been one for liking intruders, particularly those who intruded upon him when he was writing.

The vampiress arched one eyebrow. "Trying to hide something?"

"How did you get in here?" he asked, skirting the question.

"You left the door open."

His brow furrowed. "Only a crack and that door squeaks horribly. I should have heard you."

Catherine shrugged. "I guess you just didn't."

He heaved an exasperated sigh. "All right, so you've managed to waltz in here. What do you want?"

"Information." She held up a large book, bound in black leather. One that sent a pang of horrible familiarity through the historian. "I've rather ran into some dead ends when it comes to learning about Lucian."

"And that book didn't help you to find what you needed?" he questioned, the smallest note of slight panic creeping into his voice.

"Well, it might have," she began, depositing the book on the table, "if it weren't for the fact that someone's tampered with this book." Her slender hands lifted the cover back, thumbing through pages and pointing out various pieces of evidence that hinted at someone having tampered with the book. "See? Inked-over passages, water-damaged pages, and-look at this! Several pages torn right out. This book is practically brand-new-matter of fact, the date of completion that was scribed on the inside of the cover was less than seven months ago. If what I've just showed you isn't evidence that someone has been tampering with this book, then I don't know what is."

"Well, there's still plenty of information about werewolves-and Lucian, in particular-in this book," Tanis began, using the opportunity of her distraction to surreptitiously sweep the parchment he'd been writing on into one of the pockets of his voluminous robes. "Even if it's been…_edited._"

"Most of the information I want to know about the lycan master has been removed."

"Oh."

"You're the one who wrote the book, aren't you?"

He turned back around, raising a brow as Catherine closed the book and hefted it into his arms. "Pardon?"

"I would presume you're A.H. Tanis?" She tapped the name embossed on the cover in gold.

"Well, yes."

"And thus, you're the author."

"Of course."

"So, presumably, you would have the original papers that contain all the information that was included in this book."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you getting at?"

"I would like to see the original documents."

"No." He turned back around, closing up the bottle of ink and preparing to retreat into his inner sanctum, hoping that Catherine would leave. She started walking, but in the opposite direction as that he'd hoped she would go. She leaned against the table, her eyes boring into Tanis.

"You know, I'm not going to leave until I get some straight answers," she informed him, her voice dangerously soft. "I asked Selene for the story, but she only knows so much. I asked Kraven for the story, and he was evasive at best. I tried getting a story from this book, but it's been edited so much that most of the information beyond Lucian being a lycan and being dead is gone. You're the only one who has the whole truth in your possession, and I'm not leaving until I can, at least, see the documents."

The historian remained stubbornly silent. After a moment, he heard something being slipped out of a sheath. Looking up, he saw Catherine holding a long, sharp dagger by its polished hilt.

"We can do this the easy way," she began. "Or I can make my persuasion a little less _friendly_. Take your pick."

Tanis eyed the dagger with apprehension. "You're not going to leave until you get what you want, are you?"

She nodded, polishing a smudge on the blade with a section of her shirt. "I'm kind of stubborn like that."

With a sigh, Tanis straightened his robes and headed towards a door on the far wall of the room. He paused, hand on the door's knob, and glanced over his shoulder. Catherine was still standing at the table, dagger in hand, brows raised slightly, waiting for his response. Finally, he gave a defeated sigh. "Come with me."

She grinned, returning her weapon to its sheath. "Thank you very much."

As soon as she had joined him, he twisted the knob, slowly opening the heavy oak door that guarded his lavish chambers.

And lavish they were! The room beyond was vast; its main feature was an enormous four-poster bed, draped in rich black hangings that matched the drapes flanking the frosted windows. A plush Oriental rug covered a large portion of the stone floor, while colorful, intricately-woven tapestries that depicted scenes of days gone past added a cheery-and luxurious-touch to the bare stone walls. Several mahogany bookcases lingered in little niches around the room, packed full of thick, leather-bound volumes. A cushy, opulent chair was nestled in a corner not occupied by bookcases, its cushions haphazardly scattered. The pillows and blankets of the bed were in likewise disarray; several candles cast flickering pools of light over the room, while the heady scent of incense and rose perfumed the air.

"Terribly sorry about the mess," Tanis apologized, moving to straighten up the cushions of the chair. "I wasn't expecting company."

Catherine peered around the room, scrutinizing the historian's taste in decorating. "Quite lavish-particularly for a humble historian."

"A lot of these, I acquired in my travels." He took a bottle of wine from a small table draped in crimson cloth and uncorked it, pouring some into a glass. "And Viktor allowed me to have some pieces from his personal collection. He also pays reasonably well." Turning around, he held up the bottle of wine, a strange sort of gleam in his eyes-anxious, almost madly hopeful. "Can I tempt you?"

"Not, not right now." Her sapphire gaze came to rest on the bookshelves, particularly the section where the ends of scrolls peeped out. "Are those it?"

"Those are-at least, for this decade."

Catherine's brow furrowed. "What about the previous decades?"

"Already bound into books." The historian gestured to one of the vast bookcases, loaded with expensive-looking leather-bound books. "The scrolls are stored elsewhere for safekeeping, and, at present, I have the books in my room, available upon request."

"Why are those books only available at request, while this one is left in the library for anyone to take of their free will?"

"It's a matter of need-to-know information. Lord Viktor greatly emphasizes moving forward, instead of staying in the past." Tanis glanced at the book in Catherine's arms. "At the end of this year, that book will be removed from the library and stored elsewhere, so that we may move on from the past."

"I see." The lilting suspicion in her voice told Tanis she didn't really buy what she was hearing. "Now, if I was looking for the scroll you scribed about Sonja's death, where would I find it?"

He almost didn't answer that question, until he saw the vampiress loosen her grip on the book she held, ready to move for the dagger she'd tucked back into her belt. When she did that, he stooped instantly, running his fingers over a roll of scrolls until he came across the desired one. He pulled that one from its slot, wiping a thin layer of dust from it, before handing it to Catherine, plucking the thick black book out of her arms as he did so. "You would find it here, in your hands."

Her eyes dropped to the scroll, and she unfurled it. Rapidly, her sapphire orbs flittered back and forth across the page, and her lips silently mouthed the words. After a few moments, she lowered it, her attention now back on Tanis.

"So, Lucian _did_ kill Sonja?"

Tanis nodded. "It can be presumed. Her body-or what was left of it-bore signs of being ravaged by a lycan, and it smelled strongly of Lucian."

Catherine shook her head, rolling the scroll back up and handing it to its owner. "It doesn't make any sense, though. Every account I've read and heard said that, despite the fact they were of different species and different castes, they truly loved each other. And yet, he killed her. I mean, it doesn't make the faintest bit of sense! How can you fake such love…such devotion? You just-you can't!"

"Clearly, Lucian found a way to," Tanis remarked lightly.

"Something's amiss." She sighed. "Do you have the scroll on the siege of Lucian's manor and the fall of his army?"

"I do-that was quite recent, less than a year ago." Returning the first scroll to its proper place, he then plucked a new scroll out of a different niche, placing it in the woman's pale hand. "Here you go."

Again, she unfurled it and started reading, leaning gently against the four-poster bed. As she read, Tanis furtively fixed the mussed cushions of the chair, and pulled the covers up on his bed, smoothing the wrinkles, trying to make it appear what had happened had, in fact, not happened. When he discovered a rumpled and discarded petticoat, courtesy of his companion from the night before, he discretely kicked it under the bed, wincing every time the crinolines made the slightest whisper. Once the undergarment was well-concealed by shadows, he polished off his glass of wine, refilled it, and started in on that one, working to quell the rising tide of embarrassment at having women's underclothes left in his bedroom.

Finally, Catherine rolled up the parchment with a disheartened sigh. "Are you sure Kraven was the only survivor of this? There's no one else who could have given an account?"

"Unless some unaccounted soldiers deserted and became rogues, or turned traitor and joined the lycans, then yes, Kraven is the sole survivor."

"Fantastic. Just bloody fantastic." She all but shoved the scroll into Tanis's hands, her face twisted into an uncharacteristic scowl.

"Why don't you trust Kraven's word?"

"Can you really trust a man whose name is synonymous with 'coward'?" She gave a smirk, but it quickly vanished. "I just-I don't feel that his word is reliable. Too many holes in the stories, too many what-ifs that have yet to be satisfied." She crossed her arms. "Hmm."

"Something wrong, Lady Catherine?"

"Please, please, just Catherine," she requested. "And…no. Never mind. It's not important." Her hands moved to her temples, fingers gently kneading, as if she was trying to alleviate a migraine.

"Are you all right?"

"My head is pounding, but that's come to be rather normal as of late."

"Perhaps you should get some rest. I think it would do you some good."

"That's not a bad idea. I do believe I've gotten everything I need to know, so no sense in staying here and continuing to get in your hair." She gave a brief yawn, then pivoted on her heel, heading towards the door. "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're quite welcome."

Right before she reached the door, she stopped, turning back around. "Oh, Andreas, I-"

"Please," he quickly interrupted. "I prefer to be known by my surname."

"All right, then. Tanis, I have one last question. How exactly was Lucian killed?"

"By his account, Kraven carved the cur's heart out, lit it on fire, and tossed it into a tapestry, thus causing the Great Blaze." Tanis's brow furrowed. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, merely curious." There was a delighted little twinkle in her eye that said otherwise, that there were deeper, possibly more devious reasons why she wanted the answer to that question. For the moment, Tanis let it go. "Thank you, once more. Good day."

She pulled the door open, then departed, leaving Tanis in the middle of his empty bedroom, turning the scroll over in his hands. Once he had heard Catherine leave through the outside door and head off down the corridor, he placed the scroll on a nearby table, then crossed the room to a navy tapestry in between two bookcases. Brushing it aside, he revealed a small niche carved into the wall. A single scroll, dusty and slightly yellow with age, rested there; Tanis took this with careful, almost reverent hands, all the while keeping a careful eye and ear out, making sure no one was approaching.

Even though he had ordered it all scribed, Viktor had ordered Tanis to destroy this particular scroll over a year ago now; the scroll that documented the whole dark, dirty ordeal that had been Sonja's death. Merely having the scroll in his possession was enough to certainly put his job at stake, and possibly put his head on the metaphorical chopping block.

As far as Viktor was concerned, the whole nasty business of his daughter's death had never happened. Sonja had been an innocent, brainwashed, tainted, and subsequently destroyed by a wolf in sheep's clothing.

But, as much as he tried to ignore the feeling, every day he kept this truth hidden from those who didn't already know it, guilt ate at Tanis. His job was to record history as it happened, unbiased and uncensored, and he knew it. He hated the lying, the covering up-and he especially hated it now that little holes were starting to be chewed in the carefully-crafted cover story.

At the same time, though, he knew what revealing the truth meant. For something like that, death was certainly an option, particularly in the eyes of Viktor of Moldova, the warlord who was as vicious and ruthless in immortality as he was in life. At the very least, he would be exiled. A somewhat selfish man at heart, Tanis enjoyed living, and he greatly enjoyed the lifestyle he had at the Ordoghaz coven.

"Maybe one day," he murmured, returning the scroll to its place and hiding it once more. "Maybe one day."


	12. Born Into Blood

**_A/N: _**_*glances at date of last update* Yikes, it's been a while._

_All right, so college, despite the fact that it actually is less homework than high school, has not given me as much writing time as I thought I might possibly have. Or maybe I'm just a damn lazy bum. I dunno. At any rate, I (finally) present to you chapter 12 of Dark Ripples in Blood!_

_Thanks to SpeedDemon315, Furionknight, and keili77 for the reviews! Hopefully, you guys (and any other readers) have had the patience to wait for my updates!_

_Also, consider this shameless advertising, but if you readers are enjoying the story, don't forget to read SpeedDemon315's Ace in the Hole. Or, if you don't want the few Dark Ripples in Blood spoilers it has, read it after I finish this. It might take a while, though..._

**_Disclaimer: _**_Still don't own Underworld and its characters. Which sucks.

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"Born unto fire and passion

A warrior princess to be

The maiden hero in her prime

Earning her nobility

Rebellion and rage were all she knew

In the time before her chivalry

Malevolence fading away

On the face of the enemy

Staring boldly at fire

With majestic eyes of ice

A lifetime quest never to end."

-_"Warrior Princess"_ by Sinergy

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**Chapter Twelve: Born Into Blood**

"You must be so excited, Lady Selene!" the small, doe-eyed, ginger maid exclaimed as she bustled around said vampire, securing a loose article of clothing here, brushing back a stray strand of hair there.

"I am," she confessed quietly, her demeanor stoic-but underneath, she wanted to jump for joy. After months of intensive training under Kahn, Jarek, and, for the past month or so, Edward and Catherine, she was finally going to partake in the Rite of Silver, the ceremony by which she officially joined the ranks of the Death Dealers.

The ceremony was set to begin in half an hour. Two hours ago, the maid currently attending her had come in and started helping her dress for the ceremony. But, before any dressing had taken place, the maid had tied a cloth over her eyes—the cloth that she moved to take off right now.

"Ah ah! Not yet!" The maid gently slapped Selene's hands away.

"Why am I blindfolded?" she inquired, gently fingering the blindfold.

"It's a part of the rite," she explained, guiding her charge towards the door. "One of your mentors—Kahn, I believe, for this ceremony-will guide you to the Elders' throne. Jarek will present you your sword, and you will kneel. Then, Viktor will give you his blessing, there's the presentation of blood, and the blindfold will be removed. One who was blind…"

"May now again see," Selene finished."So it's symbolic?"

"Indeed. By the by, Lady Selene, you look stunning."

Selene gave a small snort. "Wish I could see for myself."

"You will soon," the maid assured her. "And trust me, my lady, Jarek will love it."

Blood rose to Selene's face, making her thankful that blushing was hard to do for vampires.

It had been about ten minutes since Selene and the maid had stopped walking. They were down in the crypt—Selene could feel it in the cool air, smell it in the slightly musty odor that lingered. Through the thick oak doors, she could hear faint murmuring voices. It was almost time.

Footsteps echoed out; whoever was walking was coming closer. The sound of their footsteps let her know that whoever was coming was male, judging by the heavy strides, and wearing boots. It was when they spoke, however, that she finally learned their identity.

"Are we ready?" came the smooth drawl of Kahn.

"We're ready," the maid agreed. She gave Selene one last reassuring pat on the shoulder, and then pushed open the doors, which squeaked loudly in the process. Kahn placed a gentle hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, and began to guide her forward by applying light pressure with his hand.

With tentative feet, she began her trek through the crypt, towards the Elders' throne, where Viktor—and Jarek—were waiting. She hadn't expected to feel so nervous, and yet, she was as jittery as a bride on her wedding day. Not only were months of vengeance-fueled training finally paying off in her joining the ranks on Viktor's elite soldiers, but Jarek, as captain of the Death Dealers and as her tutor, was the one who oversaw the rest of the rite, after the formalities of Viktor's speech were over and done with.

Finally, Kahn placed a hand on her shoulder, signaling her to halt. She caught the faintest whiff of salty sweat, the crisp scent of evergreens, and the coppery tang of blood, and knew Jarek was nearby.

"Kneel," he commanded professionally.

She got down on her knees, feeling the cool stones that comprised the floor of the crypt through the thin material of her skirt. Adrenaline coursed in her system; everything came down to this. Once this ceremony had concluded, she would be a Death Dealer.

Someone else stepped forward. Even though she couldn't see, she knew it to be Viktor, simply because of the aura of power he exuded. But it wasn't just his aura of power—she, as his fledgling, could sense his blood, the blood that had created her.

"Selene," he intoned, his voice gently reverberating off the walls. "You are a child of Corvinus, turned by my own blood. When I found you, you were nothing more than a mere mortal, afraid and alone in this cruel world, with no idea of your true potential. Today, you prove yourself to be a daughter of the Cause—a Death Dealer. Rise."

She got back on her feet carefully, with a little assistance from Viktor, and the soft, resonating clang of a sword being drawn from its scabbard filled the crypt. There was a pause, and then, she felt the flat of the blade resting against her left shoulder.

"Do you swear to protect this coven and its interests, past, present, and future, for as long as you live and serve?"

She nodded. "I solemnly swear."

The sword then moved to her right shoulder. "And do you swear to live and abide by the Covenant of the Blood, with full knowledge that breeches of the Covenant are punishable by exile, imprisonment, expulsion from the coven, and execution?"

"I solemnly swear."

He removed the sword from her shoulder, instructing her to hold out her hands. When she had done so, he laid the weapon across her hands; she resisted the urge to shiver when the cool, silver-coated blade touched her palms. As soon as that was done, she heard him picking up a goblet; the very whisper of a sloshing noise reached her ears as he did so. He brought it around, until it was resting before her face, filling her nostrils with the tangy scent of blood-vampire blood. His blood.

"Created in blood, from my blood," he intoned, lowering the goblet to her mouth. "Drink of my blood, and revel in the strength of the night."

He placed the goblet against her lips and tilted it, so that she could drink from it even while she held the sword. Finally, the cool liquid found her mouth—the goblet could have been no more than a quarter of the way full, for she had consumed all of the blood in one swallow. A sensation of warmth, of power, spread through her being, while disjointed images, moving too fast for her to make sense of, passed before her mind's eye. When the goblet had been emptied, Viktor moved aside, and once again, Jarek's scent pervaded her senses.

"The Exchange of Blood has begun," he announced.

Softer footsteps approached, and Catherine's scent wafted in Selene's direction. There was a slight hiss of pain, the sound of a thick, heavy liquid falling into a cup, then a small sample of the vampiress's blood was making its way down her throat.

"May this blood gift you with my cunning," Catherine whispered in Selene's ear.

As the blood finished making its way down her throat, a flood of memories ambushed her: _A little girl with thick brunette curls running joyously through a field, chasing butterflies. An older girl, her curls smoothed out into waves, crossing blades with a dark-haired young man, their faces filled with fierce concentration. A couple, bathed in the gray of pre-dawn, exchanging passionate kisses under a tree. A cry of anguish, a spatter of blood and a flutter of ashy feathers. A burst of pain, the shrill cries of a newborn baby filling the air…_

And they were gone. Another blood sample was presented to her, and this time, it was Edward's gruff voice that filled her ears.

"May this blood gift you with my courage."

His blood, unlike his wife's, was bitterer, and so were the memories that filled it: _A mother that abandoned him before he could even remember her. A father who forgot to come and visit him. A stepmother and a half-brother who abused him because of who his mother was. A searing twist of pain in the chest, the sight of his own heart held aloft in the air. But after that, the memories changed, became brighter—a dark-haired enigma of a man who showed Edward the respect he craved. A tender kiss from a brunette girl under a tree. A roaring fire, a warm blanket and a lover's embrace as a storm raged outside. A wailing baby boy, with wispy blonde curls plastered to his small head, being placed in his arms, a wash of sheer joy and pride…_

That was where his memories came to an end, and another goblet of blood was held to her lips.

"May this blood gift you with my speed," Kahn murmured to her.

His memories were dominated by days under a blazing sun and scorching heat. _A cold desert night, a flash of fangs, the taste of cool blood. A crowded, filthy ship, moans and cries from the sick, the dying. The dead all around. Months spent traveling north, hiding in caves by day. A ceremony, just like the one being held for her right now. A surge of satisfaction as lycan after lycan fell before his blade…_

Finally, it was time for the last sample: Jarek's. He leaned in, gently pressing the goblet to her lips, his whisper as soft as that of a lover.

"May this blood gift you with my strength."

His memories raced by at a frantic pace, but she still could catch glimpses: _A secluded manor, sheltered from the harsh reality of life by thick trees. A young, blonde woman clad in a white shift, face alight with joy as she stroked her swelling belly. An infant girl resting in his arms, her soft wails filling his heart with tenderness as he strokes her wispy black hair. And then horror, as that little girl-older now, a toddler with a mass of black curls-had her throat viciously torn open. The blonde woman was pinned down by three lycans, her desperate screams eventually giving way to cracking of bones and perverse slurps. A man, swathed in a black cloak, a stab of pain in his neck. Immortality, vengeance…and blood, so much blood…_

Selene reeled slightly, overcome by all the memories. A strong hand cupped her elbow, steadying her; once again, Jarek's scent pervaded her nose.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice so soft that even she would have missed it, if not for the fact he had spoken directly into her ear. And then, he was gone, and the palpable aura that always surrounded Viktor returned as he moved forward to address the crowd.

"It is complete," he stated, gently taking her shoulders and guiding her, until she turned around. The pressure that was the blindfold around her eyes loosened. "One who was blind, may now again see."

The blindfold vanished then, revealing to Selene that she was standing on the dais in the crypt. The floor was packed with vampires, organized into a group on either side of an aisle, which was marked by a long, red carpet. She spotted Tanis near the dais, a scroll of parchment open and quill in hand. The undead crowd clapped appreciatively, welcoming her to the ranks of the Death Dealers.

Viktor circled around to her side, smiling in approval at her moment of glory. He then turned to her, a tender, fatherly expression upon his face. He brushed aside a stray lock of hair that had fallen into her face.

"Congratulations, my child. You've made me proud."

* * *

Selene was still basking in the glow of Viktor's praise long after the coven had dismissed to the salon for a cheery little after-party. Warm cattle blood, with a splash of wine for flavor, was flowing freely, and by now, things were becoming a bit more risqué. Couples had sought out dark corners, or retreated to other rooms, and the occasional passionate moan could be heard.

But the newly appointed Death Dealer could care less—she was certainly more than content with a goblet of blood and Viktor's praise. Jarek had added his own kind words in private, after the ceremony, which had only served to make her day even more.

"So, how does it feel?"

Caught off-guard, Selene looked up, startled, only to find Catherine and Edward standing over her. He was clad in a black tunic and pants, with a navy sash slung across his chest, from left shoulder to right hip. She wore a black dress, cut to bear her pale shoulders and to flare out at the waist; like her husband, she, too, wore a navy sash.

"How does what feel?"

"The feeling of knowing you're an official Death Dealer," Catherine explained, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. "I can only imagine how thrilled you are that all your hard work finally paid off!"

She nodded. "I am. I can't wait for my first real assignment." Her brown eyes peered curiously up at the two for a moment. "Would you two ever consider being Death Dealers? I mean, I've seen your skills at work, both of you-it's simply incredible! With the two of you battling with us, we could have the lycan hordes under control in no time!"

"Maybe one day, if we ever settle with a coven," Edward announced, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist.

"Although, with the way Viktor wants us running around, acting as emissaries for this coven, settling down may be a long way off." Catherine smiled at her husband, before cupping the back of his head with her hand and drawing his lips in for a tender, passionate kiss.

Selene couldn't help but feel a slight stab of jealousy as she watched them. She wanted to be loved, to be desired by a man and to desire him the way the two of them did. At nineteen years of age, she'd not yet known what it was like, to be someone's beloved.

_And I would kill to know how it feels. Especially from one man._

_From Jarek._

_But can we be together now? _She wondered to herself._ Is it appropriate, given that he is my commander? Will he have to sacrifice his rank, his reputation, to be with me?_

_Will he even _want _to?_

Before these thoughts could consume her, Selene let her attentions roam, searching for something to distract her. Finally, she found it.

"Where's Michael?"

"In bed," Edward replied. "It's past his bedtime."

"Who's watching him?"

"A maid-that small, blonde one—oh, what was her name?" Catherine snapped her fingers a few times, before it finally seemed to dawn on her. "Adelaida, that was it! She offered to take Michael up for us—he was fussing, but Viktor wanted us to remain at the party."

Selene frowned. Adalaida, though sweet and friendly, was a flighty girl, known for letting her mind wander during her tasks. Worse yet, she was easily drawn away from what she was doing, particularly if there was the promise of handsome young men. Not the first person she would have picked to watch over Michael while he slept.

"I hope she'll be able to stay focused on this task," the vampiress murmured.

"Oh, she will," Edward stated, something dark—almost demonic, and frightening—glimmering in his eyes. "We gave her good incentive to stay."

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_**A/N: **Edward's implied threat=dramatic chipmunk moment. Just saying._


	13. The Foreign Correspondent

_**A/N: **Oh dear. Once again, I'm terribly, terribly late with my updates. Heh, sorry guys. I've been trying to write as often as I can, but college life has kept me a bit busier than I expected to be. So you'll have to forgive me for that._

_So this has been gathering virtual dust on my hard drive for...ages now, it feels like. I'd been waiting to publish it until I found the perfect song for it, and finally, at long last, I have the perfect song to go along with this chapter! I know this chapter, and probably the next chapter or so, may seem a bit slow, but don't worry, the action is most certainly picking up!_

_Thanks to **SpeedDemon315** for her review! Hope the rest of you haven't given up hope on me!  
_

_**Disclaimer: **Don't own Underworld. Don't have nearly enough cash to buy the rights to it.

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"It is your new best friend, new eye in your private den

And you can find the world inside it every day

They know what you did today, hear everything you say

And when they send you mail,

they know where you will go sometime next day

They know your life, they have a file about you

They built your life, so they...

Know what you like and know what you yearn

but they don't know a thing about me

I'm not that easy, I'm blank file in their memory."

-"_Blank File_" by Sonata Arctica

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**Chapter Thirteen: The Foreign Correspondent **

With a tender smile, Adalaida laid the golden-haired toddler, now sleeping peacefully, in the crib that had been provided for him, pulling up the blanket and tucking it under his chin.

"There. Nice and cozy," she whispered.

Though she certainly did enjoy watching over the boy while his parents had been busy during the ceremony, and was grateful he hadn't put up much fuss at being put to bed, she couldn't help but sigh. There was a party going on downstairs, and she was missing it!

But she didn't dare leave her post. Mr. and Mrs. Van Helsing had been very specific that she was to stay with Michael until they returned.

Just then, her friend and fellow maid, Ilona, poked her head into the open doorway. Her twinkling eyes and merry expression suggested she was in a very good mood, while slightly flushed cheeks and the strands of raven hair escaping the bun her hair was piled in suggested some indulgence on her behalf.

"What are you doing skulking around up here?" she asked with a giggle. "Josef found some peasant men sneaking about the manor, invited them in, and gave them plenty of wine." She licked her lips with a loud slurping noise. "Their blood is most delicious!"

Adalaida frowned. "I thought Lord Viktor forbade us from drinking human blood."

Ilona brushed aside her friend's concerns with a wave of her hand. "What he don't know won't hurt him. Those boys are far too drunk to remember any of this, and none of us are going to say anything."

"I can't. I have to watch the Van Helsings' son."

The maid stumbled in, peering into Michael's crib, observing the sleeping boy for a moment. "Awww, he's sound asleep—he's not going to miss you!"

"But…"

Ilona grinned deviously. "Dmitri's there, too!"

The maid perked instantly. "Dmitri? Really?"

"And he wants to see you!"

The blonde maid paused, weighing her options carefully. She'd had her eyes on Dmitri, the newly-turned night stableman, for nearly three months now, but for the most part, he didn't appear to even know she existed. Now, he was asking to see her—it was an opportunity not to be passed up!

But at the same time, the Van Helsings had made her promise that she wouldn't leave Michael unsupervised. And she hadn't cared much for the dark gleam in Mr. Van Helsing's eyes when he warned her that there would be severe repercussions if he heard she had shirked her duties.

_If I'm only gone for a few minutes, though,_ she reasoned inwardly, _nothing will happen. I'll come back and he'll still be asleep! No one will know! It's only for a bit._

"All right," she agreed. "I'll pop down for a moment or two."

Tucked in the shadows that shrouded the narrow side hallway, Kraven watched as both maids scurried out of the room occupied by the Van Helsing family, giggling and chatting as they did. With a sly smile, he made his way out into the hall, casting a glance over his shoulder and making sure no one had followed him, before disappearing into their room.

As with all the other guest rooms (particularly the ones for important guests, such as dignitaries from other covens, or human nobles) it was richly furnished; the rich mahogany that made up the four-poster bed alone would have cost a small fortune. The bed covers were made of silk, while rich damask hangings covered the windows and surrounded the bed.

What struck the regent was how clean it was. Both their trunks sat in a corner, perfectly out of the way; not a single article of clothing littered the floor, or hung out of a dresser drawer. There was a small stack of papers on the desk, but they were tidily stacked, with a quill resting in an inkwell next to them, and a fresh tallow candle in a holder on the corner. The covers on the bed had been pulled back up, the pillows tidily arranged. In fact, if not for the trunks in the corner, and the crib at the foot of the bed, no one would have been able to tell that anyone was occupying the room.

He closed the door behind him, wincing at the slight thud as the door shut, and the click of the latch, half-wondering if someone was going to suddenly burst out of some hiding spot and catch him in the act of snooping. But after a moment passed, and no one jumped out from anywhere, he released the breath he had unintentionally been holding, ready to get to work. Lucian had demanded answers about the peculiar family, and to Kraven, this seemed as good a way as any to get information about them.

_After all,_ he mused, _what better way to learn about a person than by the state and content of their belongings?_

He peered warily into the crib, finding Michael fast asleep within it, a wooden soldier clutched loosely against his chest, his thumb in his mouth. This made the regent grimace—he had hoped to be completely alone, and not have to worry about waking the child up.

"I guess beggars can't be choosers," he groused softly, storming away from the crib in order to start his search. "That brat best stay asleep."

He opened the door to the wardrobe, finding a few nice dresses hung up in the space, all of them in darker, more sophisticated colors: burgundy, hunter green, sapphire blue, and black. There were also several nice tunics and breeches that clearly belonged to Edward. It didn't tell him anything he hadn't already figured out, however—clearly, the Van Helsings were socialites that traveled quite a bit, and weren't wanting for money.

What he found in the drawers of the dressers surprised him a bit, though. They were packed full of tunics and breeches, but of a courser quality than the ones in the wardrobe. They were also very small, far too small to possibly fit Edward. This left Kraven puzzled; when he stumbled across no dresses, but several corsets and bodices of tooled black leather, the pieces finally fit together in his mind. Apparently, when Catherine did not have to dress up, she preferred to wear pants, like a man.

"Hm," he mused to himself, placing the corset he had picked up back into the drawer, closing it, and opening another…

…Only to find this one hiding several silken pieces of clothing, in the same colors as the dresses in the wardrobe. He picked one up, and as he did, the wadded material, propelled by gravity, smoothed out, revealing itself to be an extremely short dress, scarlet in color and trimmed with black lace.

Kraven knew exactly what purpose this dress served. In his mortal lifetime, all those years ago, he had found himself stationed in the East, near the Holy Lands, trying to reclaim those sacred places for the Christians during the great Crusades. But, when not fighting, a few of his fellow soldiers had introduced him to the pleasures that could be found in the harems: The dozens of women, clad in scandalous dresses, their dark hair left wild and unbound, golden bands wound around their caramel limbs.

And now, staring at the little dress and imagining the fierce little firebrand that was Catherine in it, Kraven found himself overcome with the same lust he had felt while in the harems of the Eastern lands.

_Focus. We have a plan we're trying to accomplish here. Please, let your _brain_ be the organ in charge._

It was Lucian's exasperated comment from their last meeting ringing in his skull that brought him out of his reverie. With a sigh, he dropped the dress back into the drawer and closed it. Ten minutes later, he had searched the rest of the room—but there was nothing that could give him any hints as to the personal lives of Edward and Catherine Van Helsing (except for the drawer of scanty dresses). With a frustrated sigh, he sat down heavily on the bed.

Something crinkled when he did.

Confused—and curious—Kraven immediately stood up and knelt next to the bed, lifting the thick duvet and digging his hand under the mattress. His fingers found sheets of parchment tucked down there, along with what felt like several envelopes. Realizing he may have struck gold, he lifted the mattress and pulled out the pile of papers he found, before standing up, clutching them tightly to his chest.

The pile of papers appeared to be comprised of two things: notes, which were gathered in one bundle, and letters, most of which were haphazardly stuffed into their envelopes. The papers were filled with a crowded, slightly untidy handwriting, all numbered and dated—a series of notes, much like the ones he'd seen Tanis take at meetings and other significant events. On the letters, he found handwriting as fluid and smooth as silk, along with a strange emblem: a crucifix, with two swords crossed before it. The cross itself was flanked by a pair of black wings. Now highly intrigued, Kraven pulled a letter out of an envelope and began to read.

_Mrs. Van Helsing,_

_We beg your indulgence—we're aware you just returned from a dangerous assignment, and we promised you a rest period, with which you could spend time with your husband and son. We need you, however, to complete another assignment for us._

_There is a shadow war raging in the Carpathian regions of Hungary and Romania, between the Ordoghaz vampire coven, headed by Lord Viktor of Moldova, and a pack of lycans over the Romanian border, lead by an unknown alpha male. There are humans involved on both sides, and more humans in that area are starting to become aware of this struggle._

_We have arranged records naming yourself and your husband as prominent vampiric figures in Western Europe, and Lord Viktor has expressed an interest in having you two as diplomats for his coven. He wishes to bring you to his coven's location, outside of the cities of Buda-Pest. While you are there, look into this war, particularly its causes. If at all possible, find a way to end it. If too many humans learn of this war, it could spell the end of us all._

_Godspeed,_

_Malachi Fernatti_

Kraven lowered the letter, frowning, practically bubbling over with suspicion. Catherine and Edward weren't the prominent, albeit coven-less and slightly rogue, vampires Viktor thought them to be.

_Hell, they may not even be vampires!_ He mused. _This Malachi fellow makes them sound as if they're not vampires at all!_

_What _exactly_ did this Malachi send into our coven?_

He folded the letter, before tucking it into the folds of the sash, studded with various metals praising his deeds, slung across his chest. He then turned his attention to the bundle of loose papers that appeared to be notes, picking them up and beginning to rifle through them.

The notes were disjointed, mostly quick, scribbled thoughts and observations. Sometimes, even smaller notes were jotted in the margins, and they weren't always in a language he could understand. Whoever wrote the notes was clearly very skilled with languages—he picked up on four or five different ones in there; he recognized the segments in English, Hungarian, and Latin, but the other ones he saw, he couldn't distinguish.

_Well, one thing's true, at least—one or both of them travels often._

As Kraven scanned through the notes, he spotted many familiar names: Viktor, Tanis, Selene, Kahn, and even Lucian. But when he spotted his own name (misspelled as 'Craven') in a report dated only a few weeks back, he stopped browsing and started reading:

_Found book in library about L. Pages missing. Passages inked over. Passages smeared beyond reading._

_Someone is hiding something._

_Spoke to T about rise and fall of L. Asked about L's death. T's answer doesn't match Craven's (or is it Kraven?)_

_One is hiding something._

_Who?_

Barely suppressing a hiss, Kraven's fists tightened, crumpling the parchment in his hands. _Tanis! I knew that sniveling weasel would run his mouth! I told Viktor that he would put everything in jeopardy! If he doesn't want all his carefully-laid deceptions ruined, he needs to throw that conniving little bastard out!_

"Tati?"

The regent stiffened at the sound of the voice, quickly ducking down next to the bed, spilling Catherine's papers all over the floor as he did. He wasn't sure how, but somehow, Michael had woken up. He knew that meant it was time to leave.

Peering around the bed, he spotted the blonde toddled standing in the middle of the room, peering about as though searching for someone. The wooden soldier was clutching tightly against his chest, and his messy hair was even more tousled from sleep.

"Mamica?"

Before he could duck back behind the bed, Michael turned around, and his large sapphire eyes fell on Kraven. At first, his expression was joyful, but after a moment, his smile faded, and he frowned.

"You no Tati!" he declared, pointing on small finger at the vampire.

"Ssh!" he hissed furiously.

"I want Tati!"

"Hush, you mewling brat!"

Michael's little face screwed up, turning bright red. "I…want…Tati!"

He opened his mouth, as if he was going to scream, and Kraven, fearing he would, sprinted out of the room. As soon as he was gone, the young boy closed his mouth, his face untwisting into a pleased expression. He even clapped his hands.

"Bad man go bye-bye!" he cooed, before plopping down in the middle of the floor, content to play with his soldier.

He had only been playing for a few minutes when Adalaida stumbled back in, the bun her hair was piled in mussed, mild panic on her face. That melted away when she spotted Michael sitting on the floor, playing quietly.

"Now, how did you get out of your crib?" she asked, shaking her head. She made her way towards the boy, who held out his arms to her; she lifted him up, settling him on her hip.

"I thought he was asleep."

The maid spun around, clutching the boy close to her chest, fangs bared in her startled state. Much to her relief, however, it was only Catherine who stood in the doorway. Her husband stood behind her, arms crossed over his chest.

"He was, Mr. Van Helsing," she replied, a bit nervous, hoping she wouldn't be caught in a lie. "But he woke up a few minutes ago."

Catherine shook her head, grinning indulgently at her son. "That's my boy—doesn't want to sleep, always has to be up and involved. Isn't that right, Michael?"

He nodded, giggling softly, before reaching for his mother. She approached Adalaida and took her son into her arms.

"Thank you for watching him. We really appreciate it."

"It was no trouble," she insisted, inching towards the door. "Good day to you both. Rest well!"

She quickly slipped out of the room, thankful that neither of them had questioned her nervous manner nor her disheveled appearance. Edward shook his head at her odd behavior, before closing the door to their room.

"That was a nice little party, wasn't it?" Catherine asked, setting Michael down on the bed and making her way towards her trunk.

"It was," Edward agreed, lifting the sash he wore from around his neck. "What made it better was the fact that Kraven wasn't around."

Catherine laughed at her husband's statement. "I couldn't agree—"

She stopped short, however, when she rounded the corner of the bed. The floor before her was littered with papers—papers she knew had been carefully tucked away before she left.

"Gel?" Edward asked, pausing in the process of removing his tunic. "What's wrong?"

"My notes…they're all over…and my letters…they're gone…" She turned her head, looking at Michael, who peered back at her with wide eyes. "Michael, did you move Mamica's papers?"

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh! I no touch, Mamica! I pwomise!"

"I didn't think so." She knelt, beginning to gather the papers, shaking her head. "Adalaida might have found them, but why would she scatter them all over the place?"

She picked up another piece of paper, but as she did so, she caught a scent—a familiar scent, one that spoke of overindulgence in blood and a taste for expensive cologne, likely imported all the way from France.

"Are you on to something?" Edward asked, kneeling next to her.

"I think I know why Kraven wasn't at the party."

* * *

_**A/N:** As a note to anyone who's wondering, tati is a Romanian word that translates to "papa" or "daddy". Mamica, you can probably figure out..._


End file.
